Shadow III: Prince of Darkness
by fael bain
Summary: Trapped by layers of magic and weakening, Legolas must carry on his perilous journey alone while battling long-dormant demons and feelings within him. While Elrohir struggles to put aside his love and a disturbing prophecy to bring him back home.
1. I

**Shadow III - Prince of Darkness**

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JRR Tolkien, various publishers including but not limited to Houghton Mifflin Co, Mariner Books, Ballantine Books, and New Line Cinemas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **I know it has been a gap of years, and I apologise profoundly for this. I do not offer an explanation or excuse for this long absence, just like I cannot promise that I will be able to update this story regularly, but I would like to thank you all for your continued interest (if at all). Looking forward to hearing from you once again.

Part III of the _Shadow_ trilogy. While intended to be read as a stand-alone piece of work, it will definitely be more satisfying to know the back-story, so I recommend you read my earlier work(s) to understand it better.

R rating for light to moderate angst and adult relationships.

Lasgalen (Greenwood) was the former name of the great realm of Mirkwood that is ruled over by Thranduil. It was due to the emergence of dark creatures that is recounted in this tale that men started to call it Mirkwood. The events chronicled in this story take place at around 1050 of the 3rd Age, some 1900 years before the events that culminated in the destruction of the One Ring.

There is a lot of dispute about Legolas's age, but in my version of events, he has yet to reach 200 years of age at this point in time.

I

Legolas tried very hard not to think. Perhaps if he did not think, none of the present would register in his dulling consciousness. But even keeping upright while crossing this precipice with its steep drop either way required more concentration than he thought possible. He was weak, and his head spun while he tried to put one foot ahead of the other. After all, what he could do was to slip and send them both crashing down far below.

A stinging blow caught the side of his rain-soaked head, jolting him from his waning thoughts. He was both freezing and burning, elated and devastated, everything rolled into one.

"Watch your step!" A low, guttural voice was hissing into his ear, but he barely looked up. Why was it so cold? Why was he still petrified? He should have dropped off all his fears when he made the choice, but still, the feeling of emptiness remained within, refusing to abate.

"Move!"

Legolas saw the ground rushing up towards him, and he was vaguely aware of his head making sickening contact with a large rock.

The cloaked figure beside him spat down at him. They had marched on without rest for three days, and Legolas had long since stopped wondering why the need for haste. His captor knew Esendri and Elrohir were no match for his powers, so what did he fear?

"Roh," Legolas whispered to himself. His one source of strength, wrestled from him by necessity. Exposing Elrohir would mean _they_ would make straight for him, and Legolas knew that he had to protect Elrohir at all costs.

The voice in his head started again and he found himself bemusedly wondering if it might indicate some upcoming departure from his torment. He would rather die than give Elrohir up. And Legolas knew that he was dying. Even the Elven body had its limits, and Legolas knew that his physical being was being chiselled at as he was torn apart by the magic within him.

His own magic that sought to break through the restraints he had placed on it. The closer they got to their destination, the more it cried, begged to be released. It was getting nearer to the source which called seductively to him, and his magic was being drawn to it like a tired beast to its last meal.

But most of the time he found that it could be reined in. It was only when the voice started speaking of the ways they would make Elrohir cry did Legolas find it difficult not to do as it asked. The things it whispered were so dreadful it was all Legolas could do not to fling out at it, crying for it to stop.

But it was all a lie. Elrohir was safe. Legolas had seen to that. He was safe so long as no other knew of the place he had in Legolas's heart.

Legolas shuddered, then smiled, as he thought once more of Elrohir. Of how Elrohir had reaffirmed the love he felt for him, how he had confirmed the first confession forced out by the Dyrian's magic, told Legolas how much he loved him.

It still shocked him now to think of it, to think of how Elrohir -- the one person Legolas looked up to and worshiped in his youth -- _loved him_. It filled Legolas's heart with the most unspeakable joy and pain. He had fought against the truth, had pushed aside his stomach's way of telling him how he really felt for Elrohir, kept it at bay, held it out of sight. And then, all pretences came crashing down with Elrohir's admission, and Legolas knew then that he could lie to himself no longer.

Such a simple phrase: he loved Elrohir.

Yet, the truth brought with it grievous hurt too, as there was no way in which Legolas could ever give voice to how he felt. He would have to deny everything, need to hurt Elrohir to save him, for he could not allow Elrohir to be used as a weapon against him. If his enemies knew just how Legolas felt towards Elrohir, there would no longer be any place in middle-Earth safe for his star-warrior.

He knew it was pointless to do so, but Legolas started to wish once again that this weight had not been levelled upon him. That he should have to be born with such powers, to be entrusted with a destiny to decide whether Arda stood or fell against evil. Why could it not have been another? One with greater strength. One who would not be filled with so much doubt and fear and confusion.

And he was scared.

Nay, he was petrified. It was all he could do not to flinch every time the Dyrian drew near. The pain the Dyrian was capable of inflicting sparked off the innate defence mechanism built into every creature, and Legolas simply wanted to run away.

But he needed to go on. Had to find a way to thwart the Dyrian's plans. He had spoken the truth when he told Esendri that the Irrevocable Bond was not as tight as the Dyrian would have liked it to be. Legolas could feel it holding him to the Dyrian, but he had tried probing at it with his magic, withdrawing every time he thought the Dyrian might have discovered his tapping. It was the beauty of language that meanings could be hidden and twisted within simple words. That layers went through each phrase uttered, deceptions and truths all rolled into a ball of confused yarn.

Amidst his tentative probing, Legolas had discovered another bond that tugged at him during his distracted musings with his magic. Whereas the one which held him to the Dyrian was restrictive and threatened harm whenever Legolas touched its boundaries, this one sang of much freedom and promise that Legolas would never be held down. It encouraged him to fly away, to expand his vision to look beyond his current situation. It whispered of many sweet promises.

It was in this direction that Legolas sometimes allowed himself to follow as he shivered against the rain and the wind. But he could not longer see the sky. More than once, meandering in the direction of this incomprehensible, unidentifiable bond had forced the cackling voice away from his tortured mind, and he would have followed it to its source had it not been the sharp burst of pain the Irrevocable Bond emitted every time he tried to stray too far.

Now, trapped between the two, Legolas squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will his body to relax. He was weak, he could feel as much, and the distance they sought to cover was trying in his state. If the deterioration continued in this manner, he would not stand a chance against the Dyrian when the time came to fight him.

He refused to wince when a sharp pain exploded across his heavily-bruised side. But he would not react, would not give the Dyrian the satisfaction of a wince.

"Get up!" the Dyrian hissed.

Legolas caught the scabbard which sought to come down hard on his face, surprising both himself and the creature by the strength of his grip.

"I suggest you conserve your energy and only need make each point of yours once," Legolas said, his gaze steely.

He waited for the outburst, but it never came.

Instead, he felt a sharp yank as the Irrevocable Bond sought to draw him back into the place of death and darkness.

Not for the first time, Legolas wished he was anywhere but here.


	2. II

II

Faced with his greatest fear coming true, Elrohir found that he was instead overcome by a state of eerie calm as Esendri paced up and down beside him. The doors from the tower remained quite impenetrable to them, still sealed by whatever magic Legolas or the Dyrian had wrought over them.

"Esendri, please, sit down," Elrohir said, and there was great empathy in his eyes as he gazed at his companion.

"Why did he do it?" Esendri said.

"You meant to take his place too?" Elrohir said, and his voice remained gentle -- devoid of any strong emotion.

"Yes," Esendri said. "I have the magic in me too. But he controls the stones, and I am no match for that."

"Do not blame yourself."

"What then do you propose we do?" Esendri knew Elrohir's calmness was masking something far more turbulent within.

"Lass sought to keep us from harm. He would have ensured then that we could find a way out of this tower."

"I fear it is already too late," Esendri said.

When Elrohir turned to face Esendri, his face was a terrible picture.

"Never, never think that, Esendri! We will find a way to help him!"

Esendri braced himself.

"Master Elrohir, I know how you feel, but surely --"

"Do you, Esendri?"

"I love him too, Elrohir. He has been my closest friend and you will be foolish to think there is no love between us."

His gaze falling with Esendri's reproach, Elrohir let out a deep hiss.

"Enough of this, Esendri! We have to find a way out! Legolas is _not_ facing the Dyrian alone. He needs our help, and it is what he will receive!"

Esendri simply returned his gaze with an equally grey and solemn one of his own.

"Lass," Elrohir whispered, closing his eyes.

_Roh._

His eyes flew open, only to see Esendri looking at his startled mien with a mixture of surprise and concern. He had heard an answer to his call, he had received a response to his plea. He had felt the presence of another as it brushed past his mind, leaving only comfort and peace.

It was so far, yet so near. Calling to him --

"Dan!" he cried all of a sudden, flinging himself at the door which suddenly opened. He hurled himself at the figure that stepped through the threshold, laughing and crying out at the same time.

Esendri had risen with Elrohir's cry and now stood, not quite daring to believe his eyes as a golden-haired figured followed after the dark-haired one.

"Glorfindel!"

Filled with joy, Elrohir found that the hold he had on his emotions slid away. He was soon heaving large sobs into the embrace of his older brother, his own protector suddenly returned to him, ending a nightmare spiralling more out of control with each passing moment.

Elladan's joy turned rapidly to worry as he felt Elrohir shaking greatly against him. Raising his eyes, he caught Glorfindel's frown.

"Elrohir?" Elladan said, only to have Elrohir continue to weep soundlessly into his chest. "Come, little brother, let us step outside and speak."

It took an age before Elrohir managed to wrestle his emotions back into place.

"Valar, Roh," Elladan said, smiling and stroking his hair. "I am so glad to see you."

Elrohir was only able to nod his head frantically in agreement.

"But you are so pale and so cold," Elladan said.

The concern and love in his voice only threatened to send Elrohir into another round of sobbing. Elladan, his beloved Dan was safe! Elladan, who never failed to get him out of a scrap, would surely be able to tell him what to do now. For too long had Elrohir been the strong one, for too long had he tried to hold himself together for the Silvan Elves, making the decisions, trying his best to do the right thing. And now, Elladan was back to assume his role as the responsible one. Never again would Elrohir accuse Elladan of trying to control him, of pushing him around. Elbereth, it was what Elrohir wanted now, for somebody to tell him what to do.

All this was relayed to Elladan through the fraternal bond they shared, and Elladan felt his heart pinch at the state his little brother was in.

"Where is Legolas, Roh?" he said, knowing that this was the key to everything.

Elrohir's face ran through a succession of changes, from haunted to pallid to fury to pain.

"We did not see him in the tower," Elladan said, wishing there was an easier way for him to speak of it.

Elrohir turned to finally look back at Elladan.

"He knows, Dan, he knows."

Elladan tightened his grip. He had a good idea of what Elrohir was talking of, and the truth suddenly scared him.

"What?"

The whole story came tumbling out then, how they had made it this far, how Elrohir had pretended to be Legolas, and fallen to the Dyrian's magic. How he had tried to stop himself from crying out, but had in the end instead betrayed his name.

Taking a while to compose his thoughts, Elladan smoothed his brother's hair again.

"We must go after them, Roh. It has been three days since, and I fear what will befall Legolas if we do not hurry."

Anger flashed across Elrohir's face. "Nothing will happen to him. Nothing!"

"Elrohir."

"I love him so much, Dan."

Holding Elrohir as fresh tears started up, Elladan gritted his teeth, hoping Elrohir did not notice. It was not that he resented Elrohir losing his heart to Legolas. On the contrary, he could think of no other nobler, gentler soul that Elrohir could love. It was just that he hated to see Elrohir hurt. Was it so wrong to feel protective towards Elrohir? To wish no pain to be relayed onto his passionate heart? Given what he knew from his conversations with Glorfindel, Elladan was under no illusions as to the chances of Legolas surviving this quest.

It was all Elladan could do not to stop trembling himself. The prophecy had foretold that it would be the peredhel who would lead Legolas to his doom. But now that he saw the depth of Elrohir's love, Elladan felt sick just to think of what might happen to Elrohir were it to come to pass. He would never survive the guilt and the pain of separation and would surely follow suit into Mandos's halls.

Looking up, Elladan saw that Glorfindel and Esendri had emerged and were standing a distance away, watching them.

"Elrohir?" Glorfindel was kneeling by him, peering into his tear-filled face with much concern. "Is there something I should know?"

Elrohir knew then that Esendri had left out much of his account to Glorfindel. That he had spared telling Glorfindel about how Elrohir had broken down and blurted out Legolas's name. And while Elrohir was thankful for that, he did not see how it excused his inadequacies. All of them – Elladan, Esendri, even Legolas himself – told him how they did not blame him, that they understood his actions, but did they _really_? Would they have committed similar betrayals?

Thinking of Legolas only made him want to hit something, for the stench of his actions was so great it followed him everywhere, clinging on to him, reminding him of its presence.

"Nothing," he said, turning his face away, staring into the distance.

"Then you should know something, Elrohir. Lithroleah was the one who betrayed you."

Elrohir's face turned thunderous, but it quickly cleared and he laughed.

"You are mistaken, Glorfindel."

"He has been following you, Elrohir. With a dark creature shrouded in mystery. You must understand this should your paths ever cross again."

"I do not believe this. Legolas trusts him, and that is enough for me."

Elladan let out an uneasy breath beside Elrohir. He recognised the stubborn tone in his brother's voice and knew it would be impossible to dissuade him.

"I will not believe it," Elrohir said again, the determination in his voice stronger.

"Even if he poses great danger to Legolas? Even if he wishes to harm him?" Elladan said.

Elrohir whipped up to look at him, furious.

"Why would he do so? How could he want anything bad to come to Legolas? They were best of friends, and nobody with any shred of good left in him would ever want harm to come to Legolas! He has never wronged anybody, and yet has suffered enough for it! Stop poisoning me with your lies and deceit! I will not have it!"

Watching Elrohir storm off, his friends exchanged dismayed glances.

"He is grieving," Esendri said, his own voice tremulous. "He no longer dares hope for Legolas."

"We must make him understand," Glorfindel said. "He needs to know so that he will do the right thing when the time comes."

Esendri held Glorfindel's gaze for a full minute.

"I fear we no longer know what that is."

*

**A/N: **I just wanted to say that I was surprised and touched by how there are many who still remember my previous stories after such a lengthy absence. I hope you continue to enjoy them and thank you for reading and your kind comments.


	3. III

III

Yuvinel leaned against the rock, not caring that the cold and wet had seeped through her clothes and made them cling to her. She was, like the rest of them, tired, hungry, cold, and above all half-delirious from her condition.

"My Lady," Gallenon appeared to her side, steady and faithful, holding a steaming mug half-filled with thin gruel.

She accepted gratefully and sipped at the hot liquid, knowing that it would fill her more if she made it last as long as possible. Yet, her body's cries to be nourished near-deafened her, and it took all her concentration to fight against the urge to down the porridge.

Still Gallenon sat next to her, watching her with his eagle-like eyes, pity and affection in them.

"Thank you," she whispered. "What do the Elves see on this black night?"

"Nothing."

"Does that mean –"

"I do not know. The Lady will decide if it is safe to return to the village."

"What do _you_ think?"

"I would rather err on the side of caution."

"Errors again, Gallenon?"

He did not answer. Just moments earlier had the patrol staggered back less than half in strength, and they were lucky to be just wounded.

"I do not know how long we can take this," she said, staring off into the dark night. Every day we spend out here eats away at the thread by which their courage hangs. It will not be long before it snaps. Then what will they have left?"

"Do not lose faith."

*

She tried her hardest to keep to his advice. But they were all cold and hungry, and there was nothing any of them could do but wait.

The children did the poorest job of it, for often one could hear their confused cries, demanding an explanation for why they were holed up in the wretched caves, for why their stomachs ached so much, why the stink of fear was so strong around them.

It was so difficult to look into the staring faces of the villagers, to see how they shivered although the air was neither chill nor warm. She never realised how difficult it was to simply keep faith and do nothing. To watch and wait, to see the despair in the faces of others. Her nearly numb mind jolted with a brief bolt of fear then as she realised she could barely remember the forest she once called home. The humble cauldron with last night's stew, the threadbare boards scrubbed with zealous pride.

And her father – where was he now? Was he looking at her in despair? For she had done nothing. What was she even doing here now, in this wasteland where no living creature dared to venture?

With a sudden shock she too realised she could barely hold on to his image. That his face, which once so clearly and vividly came to mind, was blurred through a fog. What would he be then if she forgot? He might never have existed.

What then did they sit here and wait for? Could they not flee somewhere safe and secret? Even the cursed dragons would not have a reach that spanned through all of Middle-Earth.

There was him too. Those eyes filled with delighted wisdom that darkened with each step they had taken north. He was always solicitous and still smiled at her, yet she could sense the wall he was slowly erecting around himself, a wall which he intended would stay there, even between himself and the sable-maned protector of his.

Her heart gave a twist as she recalled the way they had looked at one another. The easy familiarity with which they spoke and touched one another. It betrayed a bond so close that she could never hope to be privy to. In the darkest moments she had wondered at how abnormal such closeness had seemed to her human eyes. It was a brotherhood that she, a mere mortal, could not understand. The thought gave her more pain than she could imagine.

As her thoughts threatened to meander further she checked herself. This was why she hated inactivity. Even though she had previously known hunger, there was always so much to do that she had not thought much about her situation. Unlike now.

"A farthing for your thoughts, my Lady?" Gallenon's gentle enquiry broke into her angry emotions.

"I wonder how Legolas fares."

She saw the brief flash in his face as he looked away, and regret briefly filled her mind. Why had she just said that, knowing the hurt it would inflict on him? He had never been anything but caring towards her, and she should accept him. For he was a fine man, far beyond the means of one such as herself could ever have dreamt to attract.

"He must be tired from the long journey."

Why could she not stop herself? Yet it was like a disease, the more she knew she should not, the more she wanted to push it, to see how far they could go. What was happening to her? Her father would despair at the way she was behaving.

He frowned, and she saw him struggling to come up with a suitable response. A deep thrill of illicit pleasure sprang to her stomach as she saw that he was struggling.

Turning around, she saw Idril approaching. As always she smiled to see her friend, for the two women had grown close during the difficult journey. Her beautiful chestnut hair was woven into thick plaits that wrapped around her head. How did the Elves always look so immaculate, even in forsaken holes such as these?

"Come Idril and sit by this hole. We were just discussing when we could expect to have Legolas back with us."

She saw the corners of the ellyn's mouth tighten. Yet she was too headily plunged into her downward spiral to think about what may have caused it.

"I for one will be so glad to see him. One cannot help but worry about him so. He seems so fragile at times, although there is a powerful warrior hiding inside."

For the first time, anger came into Gallenon's face and he rose to his feet.

"Do you think he needs your concern when he has Lord Elrohir beside him?"

She was shocked, then angry. For he had picked upon the one thing she had been thinking of. How had he known? She looked at Idril as he marched off. But if she was expecting any sympathy from her friend her shock was compounded to see the anger in the Elven face.

"Idril?"

Her friend did not answer, although her face was cold. Why was she angry too?

"Tell me, Idril, why are you angry too?"

Now incredulity burst onto Idril's face.

"I do not know him well, but I doubt Legolas would have played his hold over your heart in such a manner!"

Yuvinel felt a hot rush to her head.

"How do you know Legolas? You have barely spoken to him. Or is it because you think Elrohir would have stopped him?"

Idril sprang to her feet, two red spots on her cheeks as she trembled silently.

"Come now, Idril, not only you have noticed that neither of them has glanced over in our direction when they have each other for company? That save for the twin and the servant they deign not to look at any of us? Even Lithroleah they have cast aside! He, who is supposed to be their friend? What more to say mere women like us?"

Understanding dawned in Idril's eyes. In spite of her anger at the mortal woman fear gripped onto her limbs.

For only now did it make sense, that fragment of words she was never meant to hear. For an age she had pondered over it. She had been taking one of her walks to remove herself from the deep feelings of loneliness that only seemed to get worse when he was near when she had realised she was not alone. That the prince's friend Lithroleah was crouched by a large rock, speaking to another whose form was hidden from her view.

Not wanting to pry, she had started to retreat, but not before Lithroleah's angry tones reached her ears.

"Once again he was fallen under the spell of that other one. And he no longer cares for any of his real friends! You are right, I will make him pay for this with the little surprise we have planned for him!"

At the time Idril had quickly walked away and although puzzling over the words, not until now had she realised that it was of Legolas and Elrohir that Lithroleah was speaking of. And that meant that Lithroleah meant to harm them. To harm Elrohir. Lithroleah, whom none of them would have expected was wishing ill upon his friends!

And who was he speaking to? Did another know of his plans? How many of them knew? Who else wished to harm Elrohir?

She did not hear anything Yuvinel was saying, did not wonder further at the uncharacteristic vitriol being spilled from the normally gentle lady. Did not see the flicker of a crimson shadow that was so dark it was almost black flit across and merge in and out of Yuvinel's own tired shadow.

For to her all that mattered was her heart's pounding, and the worry she felt for Elrohir's safety.

All thoughts of duty and of her promises to Glorfindel fled with the wisp of wind that blew through the two ladies. And so she kept her peace with Yuvinel and did not react to her goading.

That night, two separate beings, each bound to a heart that they did not own, listened to their own hearts and departed from the paths dictated them. Perhaps to their own doom.

***

**A/N:** Apologies for taking so long with this one, and as always sorry about the cliffhanger. I hit a snag and have been concentrating on a couple of other stories to get myself over this block. Hopefully the next update will not take quite as long as this one, and thanks for your patience and encouragement.


	4. IV

IV

Startling from the cloud of blackness that came over him with increasing frequency and duration, Legolas forced his face to remain impassive. The Dyrian's eyes were burning into him, joining the creature's magic which prodded at the weakening defences Legolas sought to maintain around himself.

The thin black lips curled up before pulling back into a smile.

"What was that?" Hkaradil almost purred.

Legolas stared ahead in stony silence, although his body wracked with giant shivers. He was so cold now that he could no longer feel his hands and feet.

"What was it I just felt? The presence of another? Might it be the heart of your beloved?" the Dyrian crowed.

Although inwardly panicking, Legolas would not allow himself to show it. The Dyrian was speaking the truth, for he had let his attention slip and the feeling of warmth and safety had swept over him. It had flowed through his fatigued body, nourishing his thirsty bones. And it was then that he realised who it was: Elrohir.

Separated by Valar knew how many miles, Legolas had shuddered with the terrible and delightful thought that he had felt Elrohir's presence with him. Yes, it was faint, almost impossible to detect, but unmistakeable. Everything about it was undeniably Elrohir's, and Legolas had cut off the bond as soon as he recognised its true nature.

"Still refusing to speak?" the Dyrian snarled as he saw the glassy look that remained in Legolas's eyes.

The glance to the side of his head barely registered, even as a new welt started to form. Legolas had not addressed the Dyrian for days, refusing to react to the most provocative of statements about Caeriel, instead always looking straight past the Dyrian each time. Initially inwardly horrified, Legolas had started to understand that those were only words being uttered, and that Caeriel was safe within the confines of Eryn Galen, protected by his father's realm.

Yet his fears were not so easily allayed when it came to his concern for Elrohir. While he loved Caeriel as the sister he never had, what he felt for Elrohir ran so deep that he sometimes thought he might implode from the worry which flared up every time his mind wandered to his beloved Elmaethor.

And why should he not fear, for was Elrohir not in grave danger, a danger which Legolas knew he would lay down his life -- and more -- to drive away from Elrohir. It was a danger that Legolas knew he incurred every time he allowed himself to be lost in thoughts of those passionate grey eyes, of his courageous smile --

"Answer me, you swine!" the Dyrian roared, awarding him with more blows.

Legolas gritted his teeth and stared ahead while taking two steps forward, steadying himself as he swayed. The Dyrian was a fool, and Legolas was strengthened by the knowledge that the worst the beast could do was to kill him.

"You insolent pup!" the Dyrian cried, although there was uncertainty in his voice.

Legolas almost smiled. His head was spinning, light from the lack of nourishment and rest. Could he go further in this vein?

He had to. Only by ridding the world of the likes of the Dyrian could he ensure the safety of those he loved. For was it not for this sense of duty -- towards his family and his people -- that he embarked on this journey in the first place?

He realised with a jolt that the concept of his people was fast becoming a remote one. That they were now to him simply a faceless mass. Who were they? Why did he fight for them?

His thoughts again drifted back to Elrohir. To the last look of unconcealed love he had bestowed upon Legolas. He saw in that gaze every reason he had to carry on, and his steps strengthened. All around him, a chill mist clung to their bodies as they continued to walk through the featureless landscape. Grey and thin, it spelt out the chill which would soon completely overcome Legolas as he walked on in search of his doom.

"Stop it!" the Dyrian cried suddenly, and Legolas almost stopped at the pain and fear which sprang into his voice.

Glancing down at his palm, Legolas saw that it had split and his blood had flowed from the very wound bestowed upon him by the beast of flames. The wound which had mirrored Elrohir's own. In his palm, mingled with the droplets of thick blood, was a small blue stone, the stone which Elrohir had given to him as a pledge, a pledge which Legolas now understood to be of his love. His thoughts of Elrohir had made him take out and finger the tear-shaped stone, and with that very motion he had reopened his wound.

The Dyrian swung him around so that their eyes clashed together.

"What do you mean by this?" the Dyrian cried, raking him up and down with his eyes.

And suddenly, Legolas understood. The chill, the weariness, all fell away, for he could hear the song of the jewel crying out to him, seeking for him to unlock its dormant strength. It sung to him, told him how for thousands of years it had been quiet, waiting for him. His proximity now triggered its power, and it sensed his drawing near with bubbling excitement.

Already its strength started to merge with his own, and Legolas felt his magic sigh with relief as the reinforcements arrived to drive away the now confused tendrils that the Dyrian had placed around his mind.

Almost grinning, Legolas sharpened his own magic and lashed out at the Dyrian in a strong offence, drawing a startled cry. It was far from controlled and refined as Elrond might have expected of him, but what did it matter in this festering wasteland so far from Imladris?

Legolas laughed as he felt the Bond the Dyrian had placed on him slacken and beat a hasty retreat. If he kept this up, he need never fear for Elrohir's safety again. So long as he kept his own heart buried under layers of magic, no other could prise it open to look within. A warrior always kept his weakest spot impenetrable, and Legolas knew he would not survive any seeking to harm him through Elrohir.

His lips curled into a sharp grin.

"So, my Liege. We have a gem to find?"

x

Elladan exchanged a worried glance with Esendri before turning around to see that Glorfindel too was staring behind them. They had paused for a brief conference about their next cause of action, and Elrohir had walked away from them with neither explanation nor apology. He now stood a long distance away, eyes silent and heavy, staring into the distance.

"Have you not --" Glorfindel started.

"Nay," Elladan answered, feeling his heart sink further. "It has been three days and he has not spoken a word."

"He is wasting away," Esendri said.

Elladan caught Glorfindel's confused stare. Had Elrohir not swore Elladan to secrecy, Elladan would have divulged everything to Glorfindel, instead of allowing his brother to while away in silence.

"He blames himself for the fate that has befallen Legolas," Esendri said, his voice almost a whisper.

"But did he not fight with all he had against his capture?" Elladan cried.

"It still prevents him not from being tormented by the thought of what Legolas must be enduring," Esendri said, and it was clear that he too felt responsible for Legolas's plight.

Glorfindel heaved a loud sigh, his eyes fixed upon Elrohir's unmoving frame.

He was about to speak when Elrohir gave a loud gasp of pain mingled with surprise.

"Roh!"

Elrohir turned to them, shocking Elladan with the abject fear in his eyes.

Looking down at Elrohir's palm, Elladan saw that blood gushed out from a newly-sprung gash.

"He is in peril," Elrohir eventually stammered. "It has begun."

x

Reluctant as his body was to listen to him, Legolas forced it upright, leaning against a rocky outcrop for support.

The Dyrian was breathing hard, staring at him with a look of loathing tinged with fear. For Legolas had attacked him with a power that was so strong and so powerful that he had not been able to fight back. But the power was raw, and Legolas's own fear had extinguished it as quickly as it started.

"You cannot control it," the Dyrian said. "You cannot summon it again, cannot bend it to your will. 'Else I would be dead."

A scathing look crossed Legolas's face. He felt nothing but contempt for the dark beast before him. Before this, Legolas had thought himself helpless in the Dyrian's grasp, held together by the Irrevocable Bond that compelled him to do what he fought so hard against. But now he had a glimpse into the true nature of the magic he commanded, he knew the Dyrian had not the least idea of what that power was. The poor fool coveted something which he did not even comprehend. He thought the gem could be made to do his bidding! How wrong he was!

The Dyrian gnashed his teeth in anger. The impudent cub before him was mocking him. Mocking him, a lord in his time and feared by all. The pup should be snivelling before him, rocking with fear, begging for mercy.

A wave of hatred crashed over him and he gave the Bond a hard twisted, knowing that it would send excruciating pain shooting through the Elf, making him cry out, making him scream for it to stop. It was a great drain on the Dyrian's power to effect such a torture, but he would have given anything to see the insolent young thing crumble by his feet.

And it swept through Legolas, surging through every muscle in his body. A thousand hooks tore at his flesh, sought to break him apart. He was no stranger to pain, and Legolas knew he would pass out if it got worse. And what did he have to fear from slipping into a world where he was unaware of anything?

He could feel the metallic taste of his own blood as he bore out the pain with defiance. He refused to make any noise.

He even laughed when the Dyrian hit his face. Did the stupid creature think that he would feel that over the ropes squeezing around him, twisting every part of him?

"Is that your worse?" he croaked, staring up at the Dyrian with a horrific grin on his face. He did not hate his tormentor, no, he pitied him.

The Dyrian shrieked and howled, aiming more kicks at Legolas. He bent down, yanked the thin figure off the ground and scratched at his face, leaving trials of angry red down the pale cheeks.

And Legolas felt it again in the middle of a crazed laugh. The one thing he had to protect, and the one thing which he felt himself losing.

There was so much fear in Elrohir. So much fear for Legolas, for how he was fraying at the seams. Fear at what Legolas would do simply to survive. It was a fear that Legolas would one day have to cast out everything he ever valued and cherished in order to triumph in his quest.

A sudden cackle charged the air again.

"How can you think of what your people call love at a time like this?"

Legolas felt a stab of panic hit him. What was he doing? How could he have exposed Elrohir in such a manner? It was dangerous, too dangerous to even think about him.

Nobody could know about Elrohir. Otherwise they would find him and hurt him.

"So, you believe she is safe? What would you do if I told you that your heart's desire is this very instant screaming for you, crying for the beast to stop its torment?"

Lies, they were all lies. He could not believe them, for they smacked of such deceit. Deceit designed to crack him.

"Oh, lust can be as powerful a weapon as hate and fear, my noble prince. Do you not feel the heat in your loins burst over you when you behold what you called your beloved? But it is not you who will enter that coveted spot which your people hold so sacred! She will beg for mercy, then fade, and there is nothing you can do but stand by and watch!"

Legolas actually laughed. What did the Dyrian know about his love? He had not even begun to realise its true nature. Of how much it hurt Legolas. Of the pain it wreaked upon him. How could a creature like him even know what Legolas would do to keep Elrohir safe?

And once more Legolas knew that his firm belief would carry him through. He knew that his heart would stay strong, would protect Elrohir from harm. He knew that there was no way he could betray what he felt for Elrohir, because none of the terrible things would come to pass as long as he held out against the onslaught.

_But Elrohir had betrayed your name._

The thought was so horrible that Legolas physically recoiled from it. The wave of disgust that flooded him was immense as he almost wanted to hit himself for even thinking it. How could he doubt Elrohir?

_You hid Elrohir from the Dyrian, but he gave your name up._

Once more, Legolas scrunched his eyes shut, trying to black out the incessant march of reasoning down this path of doubts and woe.

_Why? Why did he not manage to keep it to himself?_

"Because he could not keep it within any longer!" Legolas screamed out loud.

It was correct! Elrohir was passionate and he had not been able to contain the cry building up with each passing day; he been able to deceive himself and the world about his true feelings any longer. A deception Legolas _had_ to make.

And that was why Legolas loved Elrohir so much. For Elrohir was as straight as a proud sword forged by the finest craftsman of Imladris, noble and uncompromising in whatever he presented to the world. He could not have kept his love buried deep within, for he lived his life like an open book.

But that was Elrohir. Legolas had the dubious benefit of knowing he was the one Evil sought, that none would suffer if he kept his true feelings hidden down within the deepest, darkest part of him. And he could put on a mask for the world as well as Elrohir did maintain his sense of righteous honesty.

"So, who could not keep it?" the Dyrian was delighted beyond measure to hear the panic in Legolas's voice. Chinks in the armour for him to attack.

Legolas almost gave in but caught himself. No, he could not be so base as to allow his love and regard for Elrohir to be conditional upon their return. He would love Elrohir even if the peredhel never cast his eyes upon him again.

And the thought drove stabs through him. The thought of never again seeing those warm grey eyes fill with concern and affection. And now Legolas could only feel hatred towards himself for resisting Elrohir's care and concern. That he pushed Elrohir away each time Elrohir had tried to get close to him, that he always ran from him.

But perhaps that was because he had no choice. To allow Elrohir to get into his deepest thoughts would open up so much potential for hurt. Already Legolas was dealing with the consequences of knowing he could bring so much suffering to the person he had opened his heart to, and Legolas knew that any pain should be borne by him and himself alone. Elrohir was innocent.

"Will you do as I ask?" the Dyrian snarled.

"Make me."

"Do you wish to see the one you love suffer in the way your mother died?"

Try as he could to stay calm, Legolas's head jerked up and his eyes flew to the Dyrian's.

And there was triumph in the yellow slits as they read the bewilderment in his own.

"So you do not know."

He fought against the bait, felt himself rise to it.

"I would watch where you tread carefully would I to be you," he said in what he hoped was a calm voice.

"I am so surprised you do not remember. After all, you were there. You saw her. You saw the assailants descend upon her like flies to a piece of meat while you watched on, helpless. You saw how wound upon wound appeared, how she cried out in pain. How she _died_."

Legolas let out a terrible cry. The dreams which he had been having, their images disappearing every time he startled in to wakefulness, all hit him at once.

He was not even twenty, young by any measure, and had insisted on bringing his mother out into the forest, to where he had built an animal sanctuary in the middle of their natural habitat. He knew even then that they thrived away from interference, away from where even the wood-Elves made an attempt at civilisation.

The outing had been a successful one, and Legolas's heart had been bursting, for he loved seeing the look of pure joy on his mother's face, and the pride and love she had for him, that unbridled emotion that shone through as she admired the work he had done.

They had been passing among the trees, Legolas describing his grand plans for expansion while his mind jumped about, looking for the next thing to show his mother, to earn that look of approval and regard once more. He was debating whether to show her how he could cure saplings dying from disease when she froze in her step.

Before he could enquire anything of her, she caught him around the shoulders and pushed him into a bush, using her firm but gentle hand to stifle any surprised protests from him. She then uttered a quick command to the bush, and the branches sprung up around him, obscuring him.

"Whatever happens, tithen Lass, promise not to make any noise, not to come out until I call for you."

"Nana –"

"Hush, tithen Lass, just promise me."

Completely bewildered, Legolas had reached for her, wanting to feel her reassuring softness wash away his growing fear. But the branches were in his way, and he pushed against them uselessly.

"Do this for me, Lass."

That need to please her overcame his fear, and he nodded.

He did not understand the look she gave him then, but now he knew that it was possible to pour the entire contents of one's feelings into a last glance, for had he not done the same to a similarly uncomprehending Elrohir, struggling to understand the sacrifice being made on his behalf?

"I love you, Lass," she said.

It was the last time their eyes met, and she did not get far from him when the first dark creature descended upon her. He had watched as she unsheathed her long knives and exchanged blows with the ugly beast.

There were more of them, but Legolas had made a promise, and his mother's magic kept him hidden. Something terrible was happening right before his eyes as she fended off those horrible beasts one at a time, never crying out whenever she fell, and always she leapt back up onto her feet to greet the next monster.

Legolas noticed that his fist was bleeding; he had shoved it into his mouth to prevent himself from making any sound. He had promised Nana not to, he had given her his word.

But something terrible was happening. Each time she fell she took a little longer to rise. There was so much blood everywhere. Legolas knew what it was, knew that it hurt, because he had suffered from many falls and scrapes himself. But there were never this many injuries. There were never ugly dark creatures attacking at him.

He watched, struggling between his will and his instinct. Nana had told him to remain, he had promised her –

And the creatures were gone. They all lay around her. Legolas almost cheered, for they had stopped appearing. Nana was standing in the small clearing, still grasping her knives. Her back was facing him, but he knew she would turn around to smile at him, to tell him that it was safe to come out.

And then she had simply slumped against a tree and fallen down. He could not see clearly, but he knew that of course she would be tired after that so she wanted to lie down to catch her breath. And once that was done, she would call for him to come out.

Time went by, and then more time. Legolas continued staring at his mother, still true to his word, but willing for her to call him. His fear was turning to panic, which he fought to keep down with large gulps of air. Nana would call him, there were no longer any dark creatures. Perhaps she just wanted to be sure they were really gone.

Then he heard it. That low moan given out by hundreds, nay, thousands of trees sighing. Crying for the sacrilegious act they had borne witness to. Legolas knew it was uncommon for him to be able to hear the trees talking to each other, and indeed he had kept this skill of his a secret from everybody but Nana and then Esendri, who heard them also.

And once he heard the cry, he threw all caution and promises aside. He plunged his magic into the branches before him, making them spring apart, and flew out to his mother. She was, as he had thought, slumped against a tree, eyes closed in sleep. And he did not wonder, for she had expended so much energy.

He considered what to do for a while before he shook her gently, almost caressing her slim shoulders.

"Nana, wake up, we must go home. 'Tis already dark."

There was no response. Perhaps she was very tired, and he knew that sometimes Esendri got very tired after a long day and it took greater effort to rouse him.

And he shook her harder this time.

"Nana! Wake up! We must go!"

He had to wake her up. It was very late. But she was not responding. Why? He was using all his strength, he was shouting. But she did not open her eyes.

And there was the matter of her still-bleeding wounds. He already tried to press strips of his clothes to them as he had seen her and other adults do whenever he cut himself. And it seemed to be working, for the flow of blood was slowing.

But why then was she still asleep? It was a nasty place to be in, for all the fallen things around him were still and motionless too. And the night was so cold.

He did not know when he stopped trying to wake her, but he was so cold that he shook uncontrollably himself. Teeth chattering, breaths coming in short, sharp, shuddery bursts, he pressed himself against her, curling his hands around her arm as he did as a small child.

What happened next was a fog to him. There were indistinct shapes, people moving, but he did not know what they were. Hands suddenly tried to loosen his grip from around his Nana, but he cried and fought against them. They were trying to take Nana away from him, and he would not allow that!

He would use everything in his power to prevent them from taking her away! They thought him weak! He would show them just what he could do!

His ears were ringing with rage, and when he turned to the Dyrian, his eyes were filled with blood-lust.

"My mother died because nobody fought with her," he snarled, the hatred in his voice so clear.

"She died because she was weak, pathetic!" the Dyrian said, although he was starting to wonder at the tone in Legolas's voice. There was something so bitter, so feral, so stark.

It reminded him of himself.

Legolas cried out and made a rush for the Dyrian, only to find himself easily swept aside.

"You were there, and you watched on like the coward you are –"

"Stop it!" Legolas screamed, the images whizzing around, never leaving him alone.

"It will be the case again if you persist in your foolish, pathetic resistance! Join me, and you will realise nothing can stop you!"

And Legolas saw it then. He saw the one way he could make up for what happened to his mother, to make all those responsible for her death pay.

"'Tis mine, and there is nothing you can do about it. It is calling for me and me alone, you fool! I will be the one to unleash it, I will be the one to control it. Then you and all those who caused her death will pay."

And he picked himself up from the ground. He pulled upon the magic, and invisible ropes sprung up and held the Dyrian down.

There was nothing the Dyrian could do but howl with rage as Legolas walked away.

He tried activating the bond, the bond that would bring Legolas back, but screamed as terrible pain shot through him.

It no longer worked, and the Dyrian suddenly realised why – too late.

The Makleni was seeping through its constraints. It could hear its Master nearing, and called him straight into its seductive lure, sweeping aside everything in his path.

xxx

**A/N: **So as promised, the next instalment of the series. Unfortunately I am not able to promise a further update anytime soon as things are getting slightly stuck again around me but I promise to try my best to keep it going! Thanks for hanging in there, and I appreciate all the kind words.


	5. V

V

It was dark when Legolas first realised that he was by the foot of the mountain. The mountain that called to him, told him that his greatest desire was just within, slumbering, waiting to be awoken. He found it difficult to remember things, difficult to pierce through the wall of burning images that kept him wrapped in their heat. There were even times when he had forgotten that he was alone, when he had forgotten why he was here.

But they would come back to him, images of his mother, and he knew he had to avenge her. She had died at the hands of their enemies, and those enemies still walked free. It was up to him to ensure they were destroyed, that they paid for what they did to her. He was weak then, but it would not be so anymore. Once he got the power he sought, he would be capable of extracting his revenge. Of ensuring that those who wronged him and killed his mother would not go unpunished.

The mountain stood before him, and he could feel the call again. Not long now. He knew what lay within, and he smiled to think of it. No longer weak, no longer at the mercy of any other. He would be able to defend himself.

Just as he was about to scale the flanks, he felt a wave of fear that was not his sweep over him. What was that? He whipped around but saw nothing. He could sense the presence of another, but where was it? Was he being followed?

He waited and listened, straining his ears, willing for the presence to make itself known. But there was silence. Yet he was sure another was lurking just beyond, waiting for him, watching him. It was there, he knew it. A thrill shot up his spine. If the being following him would like to play hide-and-seek, he would satisfy its wish before he destroyed it.

A sudden flash of running through the forest, of tracking down the beast came to him, and he started to shake. The forest, the trees. He had loved them, perhaps even still did. And his people. He had started out on this quest because duty made him do so. As a son of the royal household, he had decided to take on this burden on behalf of his father.

His father. It was an age since he had last thought of his father. The father he knew was waiting for him in Eryn Galen. The father who believed in him.

But what was Thranduil believing in? What was he waiting for? Surely he would have known that the waiting was in vain, that he would be left alone – again. He had watched on as his Queen was slain, then his elderborn left him. And Legolas did not have any illusions as to surviving this _quest_ of his. He knew all would end once he took the gem. But he would take it, and make those who had hurt him and his family pay.

The presence came back to him with increased strength, and Legolas cried out. Why would it not go away? Why was it still following him.

"Who are you?" he screamed, drawing his sword. "Come out and fight me!"

And still nothing. He sank to his knees, exhausted once more. There was so little energy left in him. He was so tired.

Then, he realised what was bothering him the most about the presence. It was not belligerent. But how could it be, when everything that tried to get near him was trying to hurt him? It must be a mistake!

Yet there it was again, this time stronger, as if the one thing were trying to tell him something with urgency. It was trying to say something, but what?

_Lass._

He leapt to his feet, wild-eyed and staring. Had that been the wind? No, it had been real.

The answer came to him then, and it took him the biggest effort of his life not to cry back: Elrohir! It was Elrohir calling for him! Elrohir, whom he had buried so deep within himself that he could barely remember the name of the one who held a firm grip upon his heart, the one whom he would protect with his life.

And he had almost called his name out. Had almost put him in the greatest danger by naming him. There were enemies all around, and even rocks had ears.

Legolas realised with a horrific jolt then that he was starting to lose his way. It had taken him an effort to remember Elrohir's name, to remember what it meant to him. He was getting so good at hiding that he was starting to forget what it was that he hid from. And he knew that if he went on he would soon forget the hiding place along with what it held for him. That he would not be able to find his heart soon.

"What is wrong with that?" he said out loud, collapsing against a rock and pressing his head to it. "There is nothing wrong with that."

Absolutely nothing wrong with it.

"Legolas?"

He looked up listlessly. The sky before his eyes had started to present a tinge of grey, breaking the starless blanket that smothered the land stretched out before him. Had it been that long since he had sat down for a rest?

"Legolas!"

With great difficulty, he looked up and saw a concerned face peering down at him. A face he thought he knew, but found it impossible to place.

"Sweet Valar, Legolas! What is wrong?"

He opened his mouth but only a croak came out. What was he supposed to say? Who was that before him?

Something pressed against his mouth, and a sweet sensation filled his mouth. His body remembered this, and he found himself swallowing the water in huge gulps. But it had been so long that he had near forgotten what it meant to drink.

Even when his tongue came unstuck he found himself unable to speak. Instead, he looked up at the being before him with an uncomprehending gaze.

"Do you not remember, Legolas? 'Tis me, 'tis Lithroleah!"

Suddenly enlightened, Legolas's face took on a faraway look as he allowed the name to bring back images of a better time. Of a time when he had been so far off from this desolation and destruction.

"I heard your cry. Thank Eru I found you!"

"Lithroleah," Legolas said, smiling.

"Where is the Dyrian, Legolas? What has happened? Where are the others?"

Then, Legolas felt cold fear run down his back. It was dangerous. Lithroleah did not know what danger he was in. He had to make him go away.

"Lithroleah, go now. I cannot allow you to stay here."

"What are you talking about?"

"The path I am on is one I must take alone. Go now, Lithroleah, turn back, ere it is too late."

Lithroleah suddenly found himself filled with the greatest ire. What was Legolas thinking, ordering him around in this manner?

"No, Legolas. I will not go."

He almost felt moved by the deep sorrow that filled Legolas's eyes. Those damn eyes again! Would they never stop their flashes of expression that could disarm the most strong-willed warrior? It was all part of Legolas's deception. Lithroleah knew better than to give in to it.

But what was the best way of dealing with him? Lithroleah knew now to underestimate Legolas. He had powers, great powers, that even the Dyrian was no match for. Lithroleah had to be more subtle than to meet up head-on if he were to best him.

"Legolas, listen to me! I am your friend, and you mean everything to me. It is why I _must_ go with you. I will help you, Legolas, I promised to fight with you! Do not make me break my word!"

A bitter smile crossed Legolas's face. If only Lithroleah knew how he had to leave Elrohir behind. How Elrohir had too pleaded and begged him to reconsider his decision.

"No, Lithroleah. Do not try to understand. I will resort to force if necessary to keep you away from this."

Lithroleah swelled up, his mouth tightening around the corner. Was Legolas threatening him?

"You will not do that, Legolas. Raise your power and smite me if you wish. But you should not add the death of a kinsman to your conscience. It is heavy enough at having brought about your Naneth's death."

"What are you saying?" Legolas cried.

"You know of what I speak, Legolas."

"Lithroleah, please, you do not understand, I did not mean to do so! I tried my hardest, but I promised her. I promised her not to make any noise, not to cry out!"

Puzzled, Lithroleah continued to look at the figure of his former friend. The Elfling he had taken with him on expeditions into the forest, who had begged him to tell stories of adventure and danger, who had implored him to impart all his skills and knowledge. This was the Elfling who had solemnly promised they would be best friends forever.

How had it come to this? How had they come to be stuck here in this strange land, surrounded by an alien landscape and nothing but darkness and pain? Lithroleah could see that Legolas too did not know the answer to the question; that he was bewildered, that he was lost.

And he relented then and bent forward to place his hand on the young one's shoulder. He felt the shudder that ran through him and wondered at it.

"Yes, Legolas. I believe you."

He expected some kind of gratitude, some measure of acknowledgement. After all, he had made the magnanimous first gesture, he had swept aside those ill feelings, only to be repaid by a blank stare.

But that was what Legolas felt: emptiness. It was as if there was nothing left in him to be wrenched from him, and he felt nothing. Why was Lithroleah standing before him, an incomprehensible look on his face? Lithroleah was his friend, and you were supposed to be pleased to see your friend, but why did he feel nothing? Nothing but the loud tugging on his inside, telling him to go closer to where the Jewel lay waiting for him.

Lithroleah drew his sword then and thrust it forward just as Legolas tried to walk past him. Legolas paused in his step.

"Turn around."

That Legolas did, and Lithroleah was stunned to see that there was not a shred of ill-intent in his face. Here was someone who threatened him with a sword, and all Legolas could show was – pity?

"I will not let you go with me, Lithroleah," Legolas said, his voice even. "You do not understand the danger."

Lithroleah almost drew back from shock. Legolas was trying to protect him! He was telling Lithroleah to go away because it was dangerous!

"'Tis dangerous, Lithroleah. Please, I must do this alone."

Why did Lithroleah expect any less? This was the reason why so many revered Thranduil's younger son: he _was_ beautiful, and he _was_ the most selfless being placed among them by the Valar.

"Listen to me, Lithroleah. I will not survive this, but I must rid Arda of this evil. I need you to bring a message back to Adar for me, to let me know that this was the path I chose. Esendri was injured while trying to extract a stone for me, and I need you to see that he is well taken care of. You will find him in that tower where the cogs grind. He has been confined there by the Dyrian, but the spell should die soon. Esendri is there, Lithroleah, with Elrohir –"

And Lithroleah saw the greatest pain flash through Legolas's eyes then. It was so intense that it made him shudder.

But it also reminded him: Elrohir. The one Legolas could not stop talking of after he had returned from Imladris. He was the one Legolas kept up a steady and regular correspondence with in defiance of his father's wishes. Everything Lithroleah and Legolas did afterwards was either in imitation of Elrohir's deeds or something with which to impress the peredhel. Much as Lithroleah considered himself to be Legolas's friend then, he had almost put his foot down and screamed when Legolas suggested they hold a celebratory festival of the harvest like the one the twins often held in Imladris. It was only with the greatest restraint each time that Lithroleah went along with the childish game while Legolas gave instructions out of a letter form Elrohir.

And Lithroleah had met the peredhel at long last, had seen the closeness they shared on that earlier part of the quest. Elrohir always had an eye placed firmly upon Legolas, watching his back like a hawk guarding its nest.

"Will you go, Lithroleah? Will you?" Legolas said, still watching him closely.

Lithroleah hesitated. Inexorably, he found himself wanting to go along with Legolas's wishes, like every one who came into contact with Legolas. But no, he could not give in, not like this.

"Will you walk away then, like you did with your mother?"

And the images came flooding back to Legolas with renewed strength. How the creature had taunted him, how he had laughed at his mother –

Rage filled every pore of Legolas's body. Alongside with everything, it had been forgotten, but now, it burst to the forefront, telling him what to do. How could he have let go of it when it was so powerful a force?

"Stay away, Lithroleah," he hissed all of a sudden. "You will not stop me."

Puzzlement spread across Lithroleah's face.

"What are you talking about? Legolas, you are starting to concern me."

"You are not going to stop me," Legolas repeated, getting to his feet and turning his back upon Lithroleah.

"Where are you going?"

Legolas brushed aside Lithroleah's concerned hand and started up the mountain. He could not fail now. It was so near, and he had to obtain the one thing he sought.

But Lithroleah was having none of it. He jumped in front of Legolas and held him in a firm grip.

"What are you doing, Legolas? I will not let you go until you tell me."

A red haze appeared before Legolas's face. Even Lithroleah was trying to stop him from obtaining what he wanted. Still, he did not see the need to lose his temper, because he knew that Lithroleah was no match for him.

"You cannot stop me, Lithroleah. Go away, far away, or else I will not apologise for what I do to you. If Caeriel means anything to you, I would take her away. But if you try to stop me, I will brush you aside. And you know that you are no match for me, Lithroleah. You will not be able to stop me."

"What are you talking about? Valar, Legolas, stop this talk! This is not you at all! Look at me while I speak to you!"

The veil came crashing down from Legolas's face to reveal the rage within. Rage which left Lithroleah's blood cold. He had never seen such fury, and that it appeared on the most gentle of all creatures he knew only confirmed what he had known all along.

"You are one of them! You killed Nana!"

Lithroleah gave a loud cry as Legolas whipped the magic around him and pinned him to a large rock. It held him there, and Legolas approached while holding his gaze, a terrible mask of twisted hatred. A mask that spoke of his determination to do extract a horrible vengeance upon Lithroleah.

He understood then what Legolas was talking about.

"So this is what it is about," Lithroleah said. "Your _mother_. Do you even know who she was?"

He screamed as a thousand daggers shot into his sides. He never knew that Legolas had such a power in him. How could he? Little Legolas, who used to trail along Lithroleah's side as he went foraging in the forest?

Legolas bared his teeth.

"You will not speak about her. You are not worthy to do so."

"Nay, it is you who was not worthy. You sat by and watched as she was killed. You were the one who caused her death."

The pain increased tenfold, and Lithroleah thought he would pass out. But still he continued staring at Legolas, allowing his own hatred to join the charged air between them.

"You killed her, Legolas."

"Stop lying!"

"Look into yourself, Legolas. You know what happened. You know how she died. She died because of you! How dare you speak of avenging her when it was you who did it. Do you even know what it means to kill your own mother?"

He could see that Legolas was scared now. He could see that Legolas's mind was confused, that he no long knew what was going on.

"No, no, stop it! Stop it!"

And the magic holding him was gone as Legolas curled up on the floor. The voice, that voice, it was laughing at him, mocking him, telling him how unworthy he was. How he had let his mother die.

"It was _your_ fault, Legolas!"

"No!"

"If not for you, she would be here still. She would still be with us, and you were the one who snatched her away!"

"No! I did nothing! I did not kill her!"

"Look into yourself, Legolas, and you will see the truth. You caused her death."

Legolas started to shake horribly. He was so cold, so afraid. "You lie! Go away!"

A thin laugh escaped Lithroleah's lips.

"You know it to be true, Legolas. Why else do you run from your own shadow? You cannot bear to look yourself in the face because you know that it was you who killed your own mother."

He jumped back when Legolas lashed out at him with his arm. He had to keep talking.

"You murdered her."

Legolas crumbled then, and Lithroleah almost grinned to see how broken the proud upstart was. The one who had been given all the gifts any could wish for: a royal ancestry, intelligence, physical prowess, and beauty.

It was this last aspect that jarred at Lithroleah most. He remembered the days after Legolas was born, how the king's ministers and generals had one-by-one fallen into a cooing mess at the beauty of the babe with the golden hair and the brilliant smile. At how normally gruff warriors had congratulated the King and Queen on their son who seemed plucked down from the stars themselves, with his gurgling and delighted laughter that filled every room he was brought into.

He remembered how the Queen had devoted herself entirely to the new being, who was said to have brought hope back to their people. Where previously she had time for Lithroleah, the son of her childhood companion, she now spent endless hours bouncing the child on her lap and singing to him while he slept. Even while he slept he took up her time.

But the boy had such a sweet nature and an overdeveloped sense of fun and adventure, and Lithroleah had found them both best friends, the younger boy always insisting on being taken to hidden dens and isolated creeks beyond the palace walls – without his parents' knowledge, of course – by the far older Lithroleah.

And Lithroleah had almost forgotten how beautiful his friend was even during that time, when his face was smeared with mud and hair caked in forest debris. Only his smile stood out the most.

That was so only till the day the Queen was slain. When they buried her, they had combed Legolas's hair and dressed him in flowing white so that all who saw him murmured that he had inherited every inch on his mother's renowned beauty, that looking at him took their breaths and their hearts away. And when he sang the funeral lament, his voice had carried high into the trees and brought sobs to the hardest of captains.

But his eyes, though clouded, had remained dry. Legolas had not cried even though he had lost a mother. He was as cold and unfeeling then as he was now. He was going to deceive and manipulate as he always did.

"Stop this, Legolas. You caused her death."

"Lithroleah, please, I did not want it to happen. I tried my hardest, but I promised her! I promised her not to make any noise, not to cry out!"

What could Lithroleah do to raze such a piteous plea to the ground? Yet he knew he had to. Even now Legolas was trying to work his manipulative wiles on him. Nay, Lithroleah was determined to stand impervious to his charms. And what charms they were, for they had near obscured the truth from Lithroleah. That Legolas was going to take the Makleni and unleash the greatest power there ever was and bend it to his will.

That was something Lithroleah could not allow.

"You cannot make more mistakes, Legolas. I will not allow it. I must go along with you."

"No, Lithroleah, stay away!"

"Stop denying it, Legolas. If you looked deep inside yourself, you will see that is the truth. The Valar would not suffer your long list of crimes, even if you do."

"I have committed no crimes! It is not a crime to want to protect those you love!"

This was the opening Lithroleah had been waiting for, and he pounced, claws unsheathed.

"What do you know about love, Legolas? nothing! If you truly wanted to protect those whom you loved, you will not behave in this unseemly manner! Stop now, before you lead them to their early deaths!"

"What do you mean?"

"Caeriel told me she would end her life were I to allow you to come to any harm. She would tear out my heart first, then hers. Fie on you, Legolas! You are not worthy of commanding the love of another!"

All remaining colour drained from Legolas's face.

"Do you really think so?"

The coldness in Lithroleah's eyes stabbed right through him. Lithroleah had never lied to him. And he knew that Lithroleah was right. He could not be worthy of being loved.

"But come now, Legolas. You must try to regain something. Let us work together to bring about such an end to this journey! It has been long and you are weary. I will help you achieve everything."

Almost blind with pain, Legolas nodded numbly. What right did he have to accept and command the love of another? Lithroleah was right, and his Nana, Elrohir, all those who meant anything to him were misplacing their faith and their love in a version of Legolas that was unreal, that was a lie. If only they could see what he was really like; they would shudder and turn away from the pathetic fool before them!

His mind a blank, he allowed Lithroleah to lead them up the mountain.

xxxxx

**A/N:** So the story is finally moving on, although your guess is as good as mine where this will take us. I apologise again it's been a little slow and will continue to be for a while. Here's hoping more inspiration hits!

Also I read a book. It was about a battle in the 1400s. I cannot imagine the suffering real soldiers go through, and I hope some of what Legolas endures will be believable.


	6. VI

VI

He had long stopped looking behind him. Something told him that he was now very much on his own. Which was exactly what he wanted.

Pushing through the pain was easier than he thought it would be. For the pain was so little compared with the pressing need that drove him forward.

Perhaps once in a while he would be plagued by doubts and guilt at the choice he had made. That he had abused his skills as a healer and made his escape. He should not have drugged and then abandoned his companions. But such regret would not have meant a thing were the worst to happen.

Already he feared he had dawdled too long, that he was already too late.

Never before did he feel such weariness, but also such determination. Part of him even found it possible to be angry. Although what his anger was directed at he did not quite know. As long as it kept him going, as long as he kept up the chase.

Because Legolas could not do it alone. Because he would not sit by and watch him go to his doom.

x

Any guilt or fear which she may have experienced upon abandoning her duty and her vows dissipated in the sight before her.

Ahead of her the withered plains stretched far and disappeared into the mist. How many leagues would she have to run due north in order to reach her intended? And the sky again made her uneasy.

Closing her eyes, she tried to still all her thoughts and listen to her heart. To listen to the way it increased its pounding as she brought up images of those flashing eyes. The deep feeling that was always behind them, the wry curling of the lips as he thought about something which amused him.

While it still brought a deep ache within her as she thought of those harsh words they had exchanged on a starlit night high on the rooftops of Imladris, she could not help but bring up one excuse after another. It was not his fault. She should have told him at a different time.

Yet all of that would not matter if she did not get to him. He was in danger, and she would need to go to his aid.

Doubts were never far from her mind where he was concerned. Even now when he joked and jested with her she could not help but feel the tension in her back every time he approached.

Not that he had ever showed any signs of suffering anything similar. While not quite callous there was no doubt that he could be very blind to what was obvious before him.

Which would be why her declaration had hit him in the face with the force of a boulder. She could still remember how his eyes had widened in shock, and the stunned look on his face would haunt her thoughts still.

It still hurt, the way he had drawn away in shock. Then the clumsy attempt at recovery. The charming smile that came back onto his face. That smile which he not only bestowed upon her but so many others as well. She was not unique. She was but one of many others.

And her disappointment which turned to anger. Anger directed at him. Words which never should have been said left her mouth. And brought an end to the most blissful years of her life. For they had shared so many thoughts and experiences together. Like a fool she led herself think that the very length of their involvement meant that it was something else. That it meant that he loved her in return.

But he did not. There was not a second of doubt in his mind – and hers – that he only felt affection and attraction towards her. She now knew that he genuinely cared for her then as he still did now. And even when they had chanced upon each other again after years of anger and bitterness he had said to her he did not know if he could feel towards another anything stronger than what he did for her.

She had leapt at his words, but he was adamant. He would not resume their courtship. He would not have her even though she offered herself to him without condition. And while that ripped a hole in her anew she knew deep down that he was doing the honourable thing. For he would not dream of hurting her any more than he had already done.

When she had come on the quest she had thought herself cured of her pain. But how could she not feel it as he moved further away from her with each passing day? For even now Yuvinel's cruel words about him cut right to her spirit. Words meant to wound and did wound.

All of this ran through her mind as she sprinted across the mud-filled plain. Her feet left but the lightest of prints on the squelchy surface, and she pressed on, almost relishing the run after weeks of being holed out with the humans. She knew there was no cover and she could be seen by any watching eyes.

_Elrohir, please, let me find you!_

x

Legolas startled. He thought he had heard a distant cry. The magic in him was screaming, and he could barely hear the crumbling of stones beneath his feet as he and his companion dislodged them on their way up.

In spite of his tiredness he was aware that the fabric of the earth around him was shifting. It spoke of something he did not understand being swept aside by a new order. A new order where he stood up at the head of a triumphant column, eye on the prize.

Yet he could not have told you what the prize was. He wanted his enemies to suffer. He wanted to be rid of the weakness and the pain within his limbs.

His companion hissed next to him as a spark flew in the distance. Legolas recalled the fires which had danced before him, and a strange feeling overcame him for the briefest moment. And it was gone as quickly as it came. He was not to be stopped in his path. They would all see that they were wrong.

But he knew that without the gem he was nothing. Without its powers he was pathetic. And it was why he sought it. Why he would fuse its powers to himself and breathe in its strength. He would become one with it.

And then they were standing before the cave. The entry to his deepest desires. The answer to everything he had ever asked for. It was there, just beyond that entrance. He could walk up to it and take it. Claim it as his.

Still why did he feel so hollow? He should have been filled with something. What it was he could not remember, but this was not what he had yearned for. It was something else.

"The dark gates," his companion whispered.

He did not acknowledge him but instead closed his eyes. Was it relief or weariness that he felt? That his journey was at last at an end? That he would be weak no more.

"What are you waiting for?" Lithroleah hissed. "Or are you still that pathetically fearful creature hiding behind his mother's skirts?"

A thousand shards of pain burst through Lithroleah as flashing eyes met his. For the first time, through the pain, he felt fear. For there was not a shred of his friend in those darkened pools. The friend he had once held so dear to his heart.

"_Never_ mention her," Legolas snarled. "You are not worthy to do so."

He wanted to argue, wanted to spill out his contempt, but he could feel the barely suppressed control. One word would cause it to snap and their plans would all be for nought. His teacher had told him to goad and to question, but to make sure he remained lucid until he grasped the stone in his hands and unleashed its power.

"I apologise, Your Highness," he said, unable to keep his hatred out of his voice. This was the pup who had stolen everything he had ever held dear, including his beloved Caeriel. For he was _betrothed_ to her even though he cared nothing for her. To him, she was another cast-off. Just like he would one day cast off Lithroleah and Esendri. And Elrohir.

Or would he? Perhaps Elrohir was too useful an ally. But once Legolas obtained the Makleni's true power, Imladris would be unable to stand up to him. And Lithroleah found himself eagerly looking forward to the day Elrohir was dealt his comeuppance. For it was undoubtedly him who had come between the friends from birth. Without Elrohir, Legolas would never have erred down the path of arrogance. He would never have agreed to Cariel's hand and broken Lithroleah's faith in the process.

And Legolas stared blankly at him.

"Why do you speak to me like this?"

There was genuine confusion in his eyes. Which worried Lithroleah. For underneath the angry cold face was a truth that was difficult to fathom. Not for the first time he wondered at how much Legolas really remembered.

"Please, stop the pain," Lithroleah whispered, deciding to go in this vein for a moment longer. "I am at your mercy and cannot bear much more."

More bewilderment, which ought to have been followed by understanding. Instead, Legolas simply turned as if he had lost interest, and Lithroleah felt the pain ebb away.

"It matters not."

The whisper was so quiet that Lithroleah wondered if he had misheard it. For in that tone he thought he had heard a return to his old friend. But one without any hope left in his voice.

Before he could ask any further, he watched on, rooted to the spot in horror as there was a screaming rumble, followed by the rock rising up and sealing Legolas away from the rest of the world. For the first time the enormity of the situation hit Lithroleah. For he had led Legolas straight into the power, now without any knowledge of whether his plans had come to nought.

x

And all the lands around the wasted North heaved a loud sigh. Too long had they slumbered and been forgotten. Now they would rise and take their rightful place amongst the giants. No longer would they be a mere blight on the history of Arda. They would be the force that re-shaped the earth.

All this, because the one who was rightly theirs had come home to them. The last prince had been brought back into the darkness where he belonged.


	7. VII

VII

"My Liege?"

Thranduil looked up to see his Captain staring at him with much concern.

"Yes, Felnor?"

"More reports of Orkish activity stem from the South-east, and rumblings to the north. Even the spiders have increased in number. The trees are uneasy, and none have been able to discern why they shudder in fear."

The Elven-King tried to keep his fatigue from his face. Ever since the company had left, the situation had been deteriorating by the day. Nothing made sense any more, and even millennia of knowledge did not seem enough to explain some of the strange phenomena that they were observing.

"Lord Elrond has also returned and wondered if you would spare a moment for him?"

Thranduil nodded, barely noticing when his most faithful warrior let the high-Lord of Imladris in.

"Thranduil."

When Thranduil looked at him it seemed that the high-Lord of Imladris had aged yet again. When would the strain end?

"My men have reported that activity has increased in Angmar. The Witch-King is agitated, judging by the increased number of patrols he is be making."

Thranduil found a moment to wonder at how he was sitting in the same room as Elrond, discussing the fate of Arda, while their sons were far away, possibly fighting off death with every breath they took.

Their sons. The thought gave him more pain.

"My only hope is that Elrohir and Elladan will keep my son safe."

Elrond took a few steps closer as he saw how much strain Thranduil was under. Yet he himself was filled with worry at the thought of his beautiful boys. Their rowdy fights and the hand-wringing they caused was something he missed with all his heart.

"Arwen blames me very much for their departure. She cannot believe a father would send them away."

Thranduil did not look up, but instead rubbed his temples absently.

"Whatever were to happen, their lives would have been filled with love and adoration from their family – the ones who matter the most. Legolas, on the other hand, spent the past hundred years trying to live up to my unreasonable expectations, suffering for my mistakes."

"Nay, do not say that."

There was nothing Elrond could say that could console Thranduil any further, and he soon saw that he would only bring more pain to the monarch, old before his time. Should he add to his burden by imparting his latest finding?

"I fear I must add to your worries further, Thranduil. Mithrandir has felt a strange vibration in the fabric of Arda. He does not understand what it means, but has advised that you bring all your men deep into the caverns. Being one of the Istari, he finds it impossible to speak in anything but riddles. Yet I fear what he does: Eryn Galen is about to come under attack from a new, unknown force. There is much malice directed towards your kingdom now, and I fear what it means."

Thranduil shut his eyes as the news sank in. He had feared this, yet the very thought was so frightful that it had never been formed in his mind. Already he could see the death, the horrors, the annihilation of his people. For there were none left who had the will to stand up to fight. They had seen the two princes, his sons, be cast aside by forces so evil they would tear their very souls apart with just its hatred. How could they fight when their only hopes were lost?

"Do you think he hates me? That when the light in his eyes dims forever he will remember me as one no better than a troll, forcing him down this?"

Alarm crept into Elrond's heart as he realised just what Thranduil was experiencing.

"Please, _mellon_, you know this will not be so. You should know your boy –"

"_But I do not know him_! I pushed him away, unable to open my heart to that beautiful smile! I could not bear to lose him. And now I have."

"Nay –"

"I have felt a part of him lost. Only a father will know this."

Dismay could not begin to describe what Elrond felt.

"What feel you then, Thranduil?"

"He has passed out of our reach. He has gone somewhere we cannot follow. It will be too much for him to bear and he has cast all the love in his heart aside. My boy, who loved more than any ever did in Arda."

Elrond drew a sharp breath.

"Thranduil, you cannot know this!"

"There are magics and forces that we simple wood Elves still have at our command, Elrond. I have no doubt that the high-Lord of Imladris can hardly have missed the ripples in the fabric stemming from the North. He has fallen, there can be no doubt of that. He was not strong enough when the time came –"

"How could you say that?"

Elrond's eyes were flashing with anger, even when he saw these were words of a disconsolate father.

"How could you even think such an untruth? It is _Legolas_ we speak of! The child who followed his mother's shadow West for love! I do not again need to tell you his strength and how he brought light back into my younger son's heart."

"Elrohir."

Something about the way Thranduil spoke his son's name made Elrond's anger still and his blood run cold.

"What did you see?"

Thranduil's face remained unnaturally calm as he carried on speaking.

"That his fate is inextricably tied to that of my son. He is the only one capable of saving – or killing – him."

Elrond turned another shade paler.

"Why do you stare at me like this, Elrond? Do you hate the idea of a high-born ellon like your son sharing the fate as one of the dark folk?"

"You forget how there are those who would argue that one of Oropher's line has no business pursuing a friendship with a mere half-blood."

A tiny smile broke across each father's face as they silently acknowledged the absurdity of such prejudice.

Then Elrond spoke again, solemn once more.

"I am not the only one then who has caught a glimpse of their future then."

"So you have seen it too."

"Yet I know not what it means."

"No."

"My heart would not let me believe it is their dooms that are linked. Please, take heart from the love they bear for each other. I have before spoken to you of the good Legolas did for Elrohir. I pray that Elrohir can only offer the same back to him."

"Ai, I do not doubt for a second that they do. Isolated as we are, some word of his deeds have spread to Eryn Galen."

Startled, Elrond could not help but stutter his reply. He knew that the Silvan folk in their isolation had adopted a more closed mindset, and could only imagine their disapproval over some of the wilder stories of Elrohir's reputation as a rake of the first order. Even the reticence to acknowledge the duality present in every single one of the first-born that sometimes presented itself amongst the wood-Elves would be at odds with almost any resident of Imladris.

"Nay, while he perhaps deserved the criticism levelled at him in his misbegotten youth, I have seen a great change in him of late –"

Thranduil waved his excuses aside.

"Do not fear my wrath, Elrond. I do not know Elrohir well, but I do not doubt that he would never hurt Legolas. Besides, Legolas knows what is expected of him as a prince of our kingdom."

Wisely, Elrond decided to hold his piece. Thranduil had come far in changing his attitude towards his younger born and it would be perhaps a while yet before he would learn to relinquish his demands on the poor boy who felt the weight of his birth so keenly.

A loud rapping on the door sounded, and Thranduil suppressed a deep sigh. Again so much cried for his attention.

Felnor again appeared at the door, anxiety all over his countenance.

"Your Grace –"

"Do not apologise, Felonr. What urgent matter now needs me?"

"'Tis Milinral, your Grace. He says the matter cannot wait."

Thranduil's eyebrow shot up. He found interacting with the recluse difficult, and knew that he would not have come voluntarily unless it were a pressing issue.

"Send him in. Stay, Elrond."

It was a while before the door rapped again and the Captain showed Milinral in. Both lords tried to suppress their surprise when they saw the tearful young girl with him.

Neither bowed formally but instead Milinral nodded curtly at Thranduil, yet another sign of the estrangement between them.

"Our men need to know, Thranduil. They have a fight ahead of them."

Thranduil's face remained impassive.

"What do they need to know?"

"The dragons are awaken."

While Thranduil struggled to take in the news, Caeriel threw herself to her knees.

"Forgive me, your Grace!"

Startled, both Elrond and Thranduil took a step forward, but she motioned for them to stop.

"I cannot atone for what I have done, but instead beg forgiveness."

The gruffness left Milinral's face as he crouched before his distraught niece.

"Come now, Caeriel. You have to speak a little more as they do not understand of what you speak."

Tears started to roll down her face although when she spoke her voice did not tremble.

"My lord, I cannot be your law-daughter."

Thranduil decided to wait for her to finish before allowing himself to be relieved if that were all.

"Yes, my child, is that what you wish to say?"

"While I have not spoken to Legolas, I cannot lie and accept this betrothal any further."

Elrond gave a gentle smile to Caeriel before he spoke.

"I believe this may be a matter which is best discussed alone. Thranduil, I shall wait in your drawing room should you need me."

Thranduil nodded absently and barely noticed that Milinral too had withdrawn.

"Please, child, sit down."

She allowed herself to be led by the powerful monarch to a chair where she buried her face in her hands.

"I cannot maintain this deception any further. I love Legolas, but only as a brother."

Not a modicum of surprise passed through Thranduil. He had been expecting this, and certainty that this was also the case with Legolas filled him all of a sudden.

"Why do you tell me now? Why not wait for Legolas to return?"

Looking up straight into his face, her eyes were filled with certainty.

"Because he will not return."

He knew this truth too, but could not face another telling him.

"You cannot say this because you do not know it will come to pass."

She shook her head resolutely.

"He will not return because we have ensured that he would not."

"We?"

Faced with such a revelation, Thranduil found that his mind could only focus on the most mundane of facts.

"Nay, I do not ask your forgiveness for what we have done. I know 'tis too much to ask for I have erred most gravely against Legolas. He has shown me everything but love and kindness, and I have worked against him."

Thranduil waited for her to carry on.

"Would the name Praneer mean ought to you, my Lord?"

"Where did you hear of it?"

"We met a man of great mystery. He calls the Lonely Mountains his kingdom. He seemed to understand Lithroleah well, and followed him North. We convinced ourselves that he meant no harm, but I am now not so sure. For there was an element of malice about him I could not completely ignore, and he hates Legolas so much! I have sat in the dark of the night thinking of this, and I now know the mistake we made. He cannot mean well to Legolas."

Thranduil's face was as heavy as lead as he gazed upon the one who would have become his law-daughter.

"So Lithroleah has led him along."

Horror dawned upon Caeriel as the full implications of her confession sunk in.

"Nay, my liege, please, have mercy on him! We had no other choice!"

"That is not what you have told me. Would you expect my mercy if you have caused the doom of my only child left to me? What would our people say of your betrayal of their only hope? For I do not doubt this is what you have done! And you accepted your betrothal to him! Shame on you for having done so when your heart was elsewhere! What did you think you could gain by giving him false hopes?"

Faced with so stringing an accusation and her raging emotions, Caeriel lashed out.

"I fear false hopes were laid not only from my side of the bargain."

Thranduil fought back his anger.

"Pray explain what you mean by that, wench!"

"Legolas never loved me and could never love me. He did not come to this betrothal with clean hands."

"How could you know this? Has he said so to you?"

She snorted and tossed her head, bringing to mind the once haughty child who had stood over her peers and expected their worship.

"He has not the eyes to see it for himself."

Thranduil's voice fell to almost a whisper next.

"Explain yourself, child. You have come in here and insulted my son, one who has only ever thought of your well-being. I would that you choose your words carefully."

A small, hard smile appeared on her face as she looked beyond him into the cold fireplace.

"Have you never wondered at his regard for Elrohir? He would never have looked at me twice."

It was the last he would have expected for once Thranduil was visibly shocked. While he had not pried into the affairs of his son, this revelation and what it insinuated shook him to the core.

"What are you saying?"

"I should not need to say any more than I have."

Leaving the stunned monarch behind, she swept from the room.

Elrond found him leaning against the window, deep in thought.

"I have failed utterly as a father, Elrond."

"Please, _mellon_, we need to take urgent action. Nothing we do can help Legolas now, but instead we must protect our lands from further threats."

"You do not understand, I failed him."

"Thranduil, listen to me! The dragons are coming for your kingdom. You _must_ ready your men to fight!"

The Elven king stared at Elrond uncomprehendingly. None of this made any sense to him anymore.

"I will drag Felnor in here and make him give the command if you will not."

"Tell me, Elrond, what would you do were you in my place?"

"You must take the steps to ensure your people are aware of the threat and well-defended! Everything else you will need to cast aside for now!"

"For what do we fight for? My line is dead and barren, my people will lose all hope and perish. Even were he to come back would we be left with nothing."

Elrond tried to push his frustration down. What had Thranduil been discussing with the girl?

"Tell me, Elrond. How could you deal with Elrohir's inclinations?"

"What are you speaking of?"

"Come now, you know of what I speak. Perhaps it is because you have Elladan, but I cannot comprehend how you sit by and let him develop such feelings! I know it is not uncommon in other kingdoms, but we cannot have the luxury of this indulgence in Eryn Galen. Even then, I cannot understand how this would be allowed in your son!"

Comprehension dawned on Elrond.

"Are you speaking of the duality that is innate in all the first-born?"

Thranduil flinched at his description but did not disagree.

His deductions confirmed, Elrond knew he had to tread carefully.

"Why do you think this a problem? The Valar have thought us that every single being is worthy of love, and given us the joy of being able to appreciate beauty in another. Why does it lessen the attraction were they of the same kind? Surely you must be able to see that it is possible that two Ellon or Ellyn may love each other deeply and that this love is no way lessened by their situation?"

"Contrary to what you may think, the practice and bindings themselves are not forbidden in our kingdoms. It is simply that Legolas is a scion of Oropher and carries in him the blood of the Sindarin princes. It is his duty to carry on the line, just as surely as Elladan and Elrohir must carry on yours!"

Difficult as it was for him to understand the complex rules that governed Thranduil's society, Elrond found his heart went out to his friend.

"I know it is difficult for you to hear, but there will be many who will be unforgiving of Elrohir's influence on Legolas in this respect."

"Come now, Thranduil, I think you are not in possession of the full facts of the matter."

"Am I not? For I can now see with my own eyes that they are close, perhaps too close to be just friends."

"Have you not thought it would be because they are brothers-in-arms?"

Elrond knew he was insulting his friend by even mentioning this possibility.

"I am not a child, Lord Elrond, to be sent away and allayed with falsehoods."

"I apologise. I should not have said that. Aye, I do believe Elrohir desires Legolas, although I cannot tell how much is reciprocated. Yet does it surprise you, for have you looked at your son through the eyes of another and seen his attractions? His beauty is striking to behold, as is the steel in his character and the gentleness of his love for all creatures of Arda. I do not lie when I say that many have said they have never before come across the likes of him. Would you blame Elrohir and call him base for allowing his heart to be moved a little by such temptation?"

Thranduil blinked, startled by his frank words.

"No, but –"

"Would it surprise you too were I to tell you that it was always Elladan and not Elrohir who sought the company of Ellon? I would know, for the number of irate fathers to Ellyn I have had to cool down due to Elrohir's youthful misdeeds have been plenty."

"What are you saying?"

"'Tis not wrong for friends to feel desire for each other, for is friendship not another form of attraction? What I do know is that Elrohir has not acted upon his urges, for he would have consulted with me, as he does when his actions might affect Imladris. He is not so callous as to realise the implications of going after Legolas. It would not surprise me were Lass to be completely in the dark about the feelings he commands from his friend. Such things often pass, and I have no reason to think it anything unseemly."

Thranduil struggled to believe him for he wanted so much to.

"Have you also noticed the ease and innocence in the way they touch one another? There are some experiences that will be impossible to escape the attention of a parent, and neither of them have betrayed signs of it. Their relationship may not be straightforward, but they have not known each other as lovers.

"Yet that is a discussion for another day perhaps, for the exigencies of the situation require that we defend ourselves. Milinral will not have come to you had he been absolutely certain of the dragons making for us. I do not fully understand it myself, but am led to believe that their master has emerged and is summoning them to his call. It follows what Mithrandir too has said. They are mustering, and will not spare Eryn Galen."

"But why, why us? We are a spent force, weakened."

Elrond shook his head gently.

"Nay, Thranduil, you do not see how formidable your kingdom truly is, to hold out with evil sharing the same forest as you. That your people have made the caves your home is testament to your strength and your resilience. If evil were to triumph, they would first need to strike at the strongest. This is why Imladris will send all her assistance."

Loss for words, his mind spinning away, half on the revelations regarding his lost child, half on his kingdom, Thranduil could only nod mutely.

xxxxx

**A/N:** Hot off the press! Sorry for the delay, and hope you enjoy this installment. Thanks as always for your patience and support.


	8. VIII

VIII

His lips curled into a smile as he realised he may be victorious after all. All those people who said he could not do it, all of them who had thought him weak!

Spurred on by this, he realised he no longer feared the caves. Once upon a time he felt choked by them, but that was only because he had been a weak fool. What did he have to fear in this wasteland?

He thought he heard a clatter behind him. Perhaps at one point he had someone with him. But to think of that caused his head to hurt too much and he pushed himself forward.

He would make them pay, he would make them all pay. He knew what to do once he had unlocked his full power. Ai, the amount of wrongs done to him! He would wreak his vengeance upon them one by one, making them pay. Making them suffer.

There was definitely somebody - or something down there. But he had the upper hand. For he was so far in now nobody could stop him.

"Halt!"

What was that? Was anybody speaking to him?

Keeping climbing. His saw that his hands were covered red with something as he grasped rock after rock and hauled himself up. He needed to get there quickly, before anyone else took the power from him.

The thought made him double his steps.

She was there. She was there, lying, unmoving, her fair hair framing her face as she lay. Why was she not moving? Why were they pushing her into the ground? Why did she sleep so deep and so still?

He did not understand. What were the crowds gathered for - why were he and his father and brother standing apart, before everybody?

They all looked at him, so many of them weeping, yet none approaching him. Such panic rose in him. He fought it down, then looked wildly about, but this time his mother was not there to hold him and soothe away his fears. For he did feel fear, in spite of his efforts not to. They told him she had left them, would be in the West. Without him? Who would he look to when the darkness refused to leave him alone? How could he carry on alone?

But he would not cry. He would not disgrace his father's name. No son of Oropher's line shed a tear, and his strong blood had to hold.

Why then did he feel as he did, standing on the cusp? What was that feeling, that absolute sense of loss and displacement. That feeling that he would never again know warmth and love and beauty?

He was standing upright, clinging to the side of the slope in realisation. She had died, his sweet, beautiful Nana, she had died before him. He had watched on as those creatures had attacked her, watched as her life seeped from her. Then he could not understand it, and then he had blocked the memory from his mind, until it was all but a patch of darkness.

But not now. Now he remembered how terrified and lost he had been. How afraid and confused.

He had been so powerless then. But not any more. Now he had it in him to exact a terrible vengeance on those who hurt him. He would make them pay.

The song was so loud, and he felt the magic in his blood simmering. He held so much within his hands. Within the tear-drop shaped stone in his palm.

A great shudder, and he felt the ground beneath him shift.

He was coming home. And the magic knew it.

The cave which he entered was dark. But not for long.

A brilliant flash lit the walls as he stepped into the bowels of the awakening earth. What power, what beauty lay waiting for him.

Amidst the bright glow a dark figure walked out from the deep within the earth. And this dark figure was once a first-born, now a wraith.

But the wraith was so solid and so dark a creature it would have sent a lesser soul howling from its frightening gaze.

"I see you have finally come before me." His voice was a purr, difficult to resist.

"By the blood of my esteemed forebears, I command you to speak to me and tell me what creature you are!"

The dark one let out a wild cry.

"Look at my face, fair one! For I am _you_!"

He took a step back in shock. For now he saw the unmistakable features of his kindred staring back at him.

"You shrink from me, little one."

"I do no such thing! I do not fear you!"

"No, I can see that you do. But you should."

"Why?"

"Legolas Thranduilion, last of Oropher's bloodline. See! Look how you tremble at the mention of your own name!"

And the voice turned gentle, seductive.

"Why do you shake so? Come, let me hold you here to me. Allow me to hold you tight."

He took a step closer. Those features! That noble face of sable brows and dark hair! Those stormy-grey eyes that swirled with such emotion! But what was his name?

"Who are you?"

"Look at me! You sway on your feet from exhaustion; you need but a puff of wind to knock you over. Come here and lean against me, for I shall give you warmth and strength."

He stared at the dark figure. Why did he feel as if the one before him was so important?

"Do you not even remember my face? I am offering you warmth, Legolas. I want to give you back what is rightfully yours!"

Legolas? That was his name, was it not? His memory was so distant, so hazy.

"You hide much within you, Prince. Aye, for darkness has crept into the heart of the trees you love so dear. Do you not remember what it was like to love? Or has that too vanished with the north wind that blows so stridently across these wastelands? Beware betrayals, my Prince."

"Who are you?"

The dark figure laughed.

"You forget my name! but no matter. You are tired, you need strength, and only I can give it to you. With me, through me, we shall wield so much power as to keep them away from our hearts."

"Why would you be interested in me? What do I offer you in return?"

"I offer you the chance to right so many wrongs committed against you. Have you not lost and grieved? Must I show them to you again?"

"No!"

"Take me then!"

He stepped forward, and the dark figure grabbed his hand.

Instantly he knew he was doomed.

A low rumble filled the air, and it rose higher as the cackling sounds of the creature's triumph flooded everything.

"You fool! I thought you a worthy adversary, yet you fell like a stack of paper houses! Do you not see, for I am he, Lord of the Black Heath, and onetime master of all you see! I was nearly undone by that sentimental fool, but how was he to know he could not destroy me fully? Nay, all I had to do was wait until my gem came back to me. And with it came you, little lamb.

"How I shall enjoy inhabiting that beautifully untouched body!"

And the pain, it was like nothing that he had ever experienced before! The pain of his resistance, the resistance that he gave to the thing, trying to wrench them so far apart.

For it was what his creature sought to do. It wanted to tear away his soul and invade his body. And the bond that kept them together was all but hanging by the tiniest sliver.

Then there was a howl of rage. The pain this time was not his.

"Oh, you stupid, stupid fool!" the creature screamed. "How could you?"

What? Legolas could not understand it. But why was he suddenly able to fight against the one who sought his destruction? He laid into his opponent with his magic eagerly.

The screeching quickened.

"No! No, how could you? Where did you find this strength? You were so weak! But your body is uninhabitable!"

Turning around, Legolas grinned as he felt his magic whip the dark one into shape.

"It seems you have underestimated my powers."

He was holding the dark creature by his throat now.

Instead of fear, horror, scorn appeared suddenly on his opponent's face.

"Do not flatter yourself, pup! Your body has been contaminated by what your people hold highly in esteem. It has been fouled by love."

"Fouled? You are so wrong -"

"Am I? is it not love that weakens you? For otherwise would you not have gone boldly into anything with no fear? Instead all you do now is jump in the dark at the thought of harm befalling your dearest."

"No, that is not true!"

"How then do you explain your lie about the she-Elf? Ah yes, I do know it to be a lie. For I see through it. I can feel the disgusting weakness in your body, that part of you that you fancy blessed because it has been touched by blighted love. But 'tis nothing but a hindrance, and it makes me very annoyed.

"Yes, do keep your fingers around my throat, or else I might just shout out to the world how you love your filthy half-blood -"

"No!" Legolas screamed.

And it was _his_ magic that flooded into the hated being before him. It was him that sought the complete destruction of his nemesis. For this creature knew.

It screamed too, and he fought so hard against the cursed Elf. But Legolas was too powerful.

And it was Legolas who swallowed his soul, it was this gentle boy from the beautiful Greenwood that at last vanquished his foe.

Yet even as Legolas was draining away his adversary's last light, he felt the part of him that belonged to the other dim and fade. He would soon be unknown even to himself.

xxxxx

**A/N: **Again I have gotten stuck with the story but hopefully the next chapter will be a little quicker in coming. Thanks for sticking with me. It's been a painful process but I do hope the story more than makes up for it. Happy spring!


	9. IX

IX

The light was bright. So very bright that it hurt to look. They squinted against it, and could they see a lone figure at the centre of it?

What did it mean? Why was it so terrible to behold?

Then, Elrohir sucked in his breath sharply, and whatever hope there might have been in his breast died a little as the ground let out a low moan of content.

He stopped in his tracks, the feeling of utter despair threatening to cut him down.

Was that a soft tread to the back of him? He did not particularly care at this point, so deeply was he concentrating on ridding himself of any destructive thoughts. He could not afford to give in like this. Not now.

A voice, and then a hand laying itself on his shoulder.

He whipped around, sword drawn, ready to hew down at whatever it was that stalked him.

"Elrohir!"

At the last moment he diverted his blow and sent his sword crashing to the side of his new companion instead.

"You!"

Before she could answer, a low cackle filled the air, punctuated with gasps of breath.

The pair flew over to a prone figure they had earlier missed on the ground by the edge of a sheer drop.

Grabbing the wretched figure despite her trying to stop him, Elrohir felt the hatred flowing through his veins.

"Foul creature! What have you done to him? I will have you wailing and pleading before Námo! Speak!"

The red eyes were filled with a huge amount of pain, but yet the hatred and triumph still continued to shine through them.

The Dyrian laughed once more.

"You have failed, my pretties. You are too weak and yet you set out to destroy us? The power of the Makleni shall sweep over the lands again! Alas that 'tis not I who will yield it but that stupid pretty fool."

He burst into a round of coughing and spat his black blood onto the ground.

Elrohir was not mindful of that.

"What do you mean? How do you know the stone has come to life? You do not have it with you!"

"Stupid Elf. I would give anything to see you confront your Prince now. Oh, what satisfaction I would derive from seeing your horrified faces before you are smote down by his wrath and power!"

"Liar! He would do no such thing!"

The Dyrian grabbed Elrohir's arm, catching him off-guard and making him cry in pain.

"Feel his hatred. There is nothing any of you can do. Even those whom you love will be swept aside and made to die a thousand horrible deaths before him. He is strong now, and none of you can – but what is this? What is this I feel?"

Yanking himself free, Elrohir continued to fix the weak beast with his terrible glare. And without warning, he drew a dagger and plunged it straight into the creature's eye, before drawing it out again, without a single grain of emotion.

"Elrohir!"

He did not flinch, and instead swung around to point his fabled sword at his companion, ignoring the cries of pain from the creature. The burning emotions in his eyes made it clear that he would think nothing of striking her down too.

"Elrohir, please, put down the blade!"

While Elrohir continued to stare at her, she struggled to contain her shock. For Elrohir to point a blade at her was unthinkable. For even if he did have a famous temper, never before had he lost control like that.

"Try to stop me," he whispered, and his lowered voice was so chilling.

By now she realised how dangerous the situation she was in, even as the screams from the creature in the back of their minds did not abate.

Then, Elrohir turned back to the beast, his face showing not a trace of disgust or anger in the grey light.

"Now, die!" Again that soft, chilling voice.

With the quickest thrust, he twisted the Dyrian around and flung him screaming over the edge of the cliff.

They could hear the screams as they echoed about.

And then the girl hurled herself at Elrohir, who had allowed his sword to fall to the ground beside him.

"How could you, Elrohir? How could you attack an unarmed being?"

Instead of fighting her, Elrohir fell to the ground in sudden exhaustion, and they ended in a pile amongst the boulders.

She tried to extricate herself, but stopped short as she saw the utter ruin on his face.

Elrohir for his part was slowly turning away, no longer listening to anything around him, trapped in his own world of swirling emptiness.

"Elrohir?"

He did not answer.

She was frightened too by how closed he had become during the journey, even though it was obvious that something within him was hurting so badly.

And Elrohir himself was completely reeling from shock and disbelief. Why was she still standing? Had her world not similarly collapsed as his had? Where was he? Where was Legolas? Why was he nowhere in sight? Why could he not find Legolas?

He felt arms around him, but it was her, not Legolas. He allowed a fleeting glance of hatred to himself for feeling this way about her.

And then the anger came back. For he had failed. He had tried but failed again to keep the one whom he loved from harm.

Just like his mother.

The rage he felt was so great his world started spinning again and red spots covered his vision. For they had taken first his mother, then Legolas. But it was because on both occasions he had failed miserably to defend them from harm. It was him who had allowed them to fall.

x

Back across the chasm that separated them, Legolas felt his heart wrench in sudden pain.

All that was good and comforting about his warrior flooded into him, and he felt the darkness ease, and the burden lift. How could it be possible that he could still feel him? When he faced such a force of evil?

The pain and the nausea left him for the briefest moment. His lips curled as a remote memory of lying by a stream on a clear summer's day floated through his mind.

Then he realised the full extent of what he was about to do. The thought filled him with fear as he had never known before. Fear that eclipsed the one that taken him when he realised his Nana had gone and would never be able to protect him ever again.

Would Elrohir be able to drive that fear away as he did to him as a child?

No. for taking the gem into his life force meant to renounce Elrohir and everything he had ever cherished in his heart. He knew that to be true, even if no one had before told him of it.

"I love you."

They were his last words as at last he melted into the dark figure.

xxxxx

**A/N:** Surprised myself even with the update. I guess the story is dying to come out now. Could it be the excitement/inspiration of another film about Arda? Enjoy the changing of the seasons and hopefully hear from you soon.


	10. X

X

Before their powers fused, he felt the last memory hit him, and he wondered at how he loved her so greatly and staunchly and blindly after all these years. That his child's undying devotion was still invoked with a tap of a memory.

The way she laughed so musically when he showed her his latest drawing and acted out the last escapade with Esendri. The way she blew on and kissed his elbows and knees when he bumped and scraped them. The sweet, soft smell of her hair as she cradled him deep down.

He loved her and believed in her. For she would always be there for him.

And when she was gone – the confusion. The numbness, and then the pain! He thought he would go wild with it, for it hurt more than when he had smashed his ankle trying to ford the river!

Nothing could make it go away. Nothing ever!

But no, for he had come along. Through the haze of injuries and confusion, the dark, silent figure sat by his bed.

He spoke little then, and he gave off the aura of one grieving. Even while they started talking at last there were few smiles at first.

Only after he had broken the news about Nana, after he had explained the finality of her death did the last barrier come tumbling down. The first seeds of love had been sown without much effort, and how they had grown since!

What joy a child could derive from having a warrior knight as a friend and protector! The secrets confided as the years went by only grew with the strongest bond of friendship.

Then came the irreplaceable love.

The love of the doomed.

_I shall forever keep this secret, back to the earth from which we all tread upon. I shall forever be yours, and your image shall be imprinted secretly on my heart._

There was the last burst, and the darkness came.

x

Another large crack split the sky into half.

Glorfindel rose and gazed into the far north, his fair face darkened by his thoughts. What was the veteran of the first age thinking? Did he know what had happened, or did he horribly doubt – and fear?

"What is it?" Esendri, loyal, devoted Esendri, was the first to speak. Although he, more than any of them, felt his blood start to simmer and hum. He had not invoked the magic, but it was stirring.

Looking up, Elladan saw the sky splinter into a million pieces.

"It has happened!" Esendri's voice was stiff with horror. "The power of the gem has fused with him!"

Glorfindel's face turned a deathly shade.

"We have to return."

"And Roh?" Elladan demanded. "Would we leave him?"

"Yes," Glorfindel said, hardening his heart. Did the younglings think he was doing so with a light step? "I have watched both you and your brother from the moment you were born, but he has made his choice, and we cannot jeopardise the lives of others because he has decided to go after Legolas."

And without a further word he began his way south.

What then could Esendri and Elladan do but follow?

x

"The Dark Prince," Elrohir whispered, staring at the ground. "We have failed him."

Then, a long, racking scream tore through them all, filled the air with its triumph.

"It has started, the dragons know and are riding to answer the call. They are hungry for blood."

"Then we must leave now!"

"Where?" Elrohir demanded, looking up.

"We need to return!"

"No!" He leapt to his feet.

"We do not have time for this! We need to find Glorfindel and the rest of our party. We have to make haste for Imladris to alert our people!"

"How could you? Lass is out there, he is up against Valar-knows what, and you tell me to _retreat_? Do you not understand anything, Idril? Legolas is out there!"

"Elrohir, please, calm down."

"No, do not tell me to calm down! Do not tell me to calm down when Legolas is out there, on his own, under the power of things even the Valar themselves fear. Melkor's balls, how could this be happening? He is but a _child_! He is a child!"

"There is one of him, Elrohir, and millions in Arda, all of whom are now threatened. Terror and eternal darkness will befall all their good souls if we do not warn our people of the need to fight! Would you have that?"

Elrohir stared at her, visibly torn. Then, he squared his jaw and looked straight into her eyes.

"I will go after him. The rest of Arda's fate is not my concern. I love him."

And before she could respond in astonishment, he glanced the side of her head with a heavy blow, caught her as she crumbled, and laid her gently down.

Then, standing, he looked down at her unconscious form, his mind filled with memories of the times they had spent together. The laughter and the beautiful places they had visited were his last thoughts as he turned and followed down the path towards Mount Atilak.

x

Night – or was it day? Who knew in the endless greyness? – came, and they paused to rest with moods as black as the darkness being unleashed. The screams and screeches at carried on all day, as the dragons had answered their master's call.

"'Tis not only dragons that will rally," Glorfindel said as he handed a phial of Miruvor over to Elladan.

Neither of the young ones spoke, and they kept their faces firmly averted.

Glorfindel stood and retreated from them, his eyes planted on the North. His thoughts too were with the young prince and his unbeatable determination. And they had abandoned him. Him and Elrohir. How was he to tell Elrond this?

"Glorfindel?" Elladan's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes?"

"I have to go to Roh, Glorfindel. He needs me. Warn Ada and raise the army you need. But I must go. I must."

Glorfindel glanced from Elladan to Esendri. How could he say yes when letting Elladan go meant signing his death warrant?

"I will go whether you allow me to or not," Elladan said, when he saw he was not getting a response. "You may knock me out and drag me with you, but I will find a way to escape –"

"There is no need for that, ion."

"How about me?" Esendri said, anxious to catch Glorfindel while he was still receptive to such thoughts.

"Do not expect me to let you go, Esendri," Glorfindel snapped.

"What else do you hide from us, Glorfindel?" Elladan said.

His perception did not surprise Glorfindel. Elladan was not Elrond's firstborn for nothing. He had a gift for keeping control under pressure, unlike his firebrand of a twin.

"The prophecy – " Glorfindel began

"You should beware those," Elladan interrupted.

"And you must know that Legolas's power has fused with the gem. We cannot help him, or Elrohir, for that matter."

"No, that is not true! We make our own destinies, and hang all the prophecies in the world! I remember Ada telling us that they were mere possibilities, not truths!"

"We do not have time to sit here arguing!" Esendri cried, as Glorfindel refused to answer.

"The dragons and trolls are almost there!"

"How did you know?" Glorfindel said, suspicion rising in him. "Never have I mentioned them to you!"

Elladan continued glaring at him.

"You have seen something?"

"Roh has."

"He told you? When?"

Elladan shook his head.

"You know how he hates them and refuses to speak of them. I felt our channel open briefly, and he was in so much fear! He was having one of his visions, and in them I saw dragons and trolls going to the Dark Lord."

"Trolls? Why should we fear such stupid creatures?" Esendri said. "They do not even wield magic!"

"The gem. It will unlock powers long lost to them."

Glorfindel was startled enough by Elladan's proclamation to show it.

"What else –"

"Please, let me go to Roh, Glorfindel. I swear on all that is dear to me, I can help him, I can help them both. I am the only one who can do it. I can stop this. Roh will not be able to stop Legolas, but I can."

"You cannot outrun the trolls. They may be slow most of the time but it is said that when the need arises they can cover a league in half the time the swiftest steed can and go on for twice as long without tiring."

"I know where they will pass, and I can find Roh."

"How?"

"We do not have time for this! I must leave now! I need to save them!"

"What is the risk to yourself, Elladan?"

Elladan looked away and refused to answer.

"You remind me of your brother when you behave like this. Do you expect me to return to your father and tell him I let you both go to your deaths?"

"Yes. But we will not die. And each of us has sworn oaths to protect Arda. Will you renege on them now by stopping me?"

Glorfindel was visibly defeated.

"Which father would be at ease sending his son to his death?"

"Thranduil did it. But Legolas would not die."

"Not you, Esendri," Glorfindel said, as he saw the other youngling about to start arguing. "You have the magic, and 'twould be madness to send you back there where they can get you."

Tears sprung into his eyes as Esendri realised that Glorfindel was right. They could not risk it. Not while his powers were still a secret.

"I know I can count on you and Master Elrohir to save Lass. I only wish I were there with you."

Elladan was so agitated that he did not even feel relief at Glorfindel's agreement. All he could think about was his twin and the horrific image that he had seen through him.

Nodding briefly at Glorfindel and Esendri, Elladan then turned his back on them and started into a long sprint back where they had come from.

xxxxx

**A/N:** Am on a bit of a roll here! The ideas are finally flowing, so please stay tuned and let me know how you are finding it. I'm quite excited about some of the bits I have popping into my head, so with a bit of luck I will be able to share them with you sooner rather than later.

I know I did not imagine something like this when I first started, and the learning I have gone through has been truly amazing. Thank you for being part of it.

Also, thanks Ovoriel for your kind words throughout the years. Sadly it seems that Elrohir is going to stay in the dark if Legolas had anything to do with it.


	11. XI

XI

Icy fear ran through Elrohir's limbs for the first time as he stood atop the ledge, looking down onto the terrific sight before him. For swarming before him were hordes of trolls, of the type that usually dwelt in caves, all tramping towards a common direction, letting out a roaring rage as they did.

And he alone would stand against such power! He had to fight all of them to get to Legolas, for there was no doubt that they stood in the way between Legolas and safety.

Only Elrohir could save him.

He felt his strong conviction waver ever so slightly. For who could be faced with such a sight and not quiver?

Or was he being weak? He thought about the way Legolas had looked at him the last time they had set eyes on each other, and almost wept from the memory.

He could not ever forget how he had begged Legolas to reconsider, how he had asked to be allowed to go with him. And how Legolas had denied him the chance to fight for and protect his heart.

Why?

Then, a sudden presence brushed his mind, and he almost jumped, for it was the last thing he had been expecting.

_Roh!_

Elrohir whipped around, his eyes scanning the landscape madly. It was not possible, for he had left them all behind.

Yet he had heard the voice and felt him so clearly in his mind.

_Roh, stop!_

It was unmistakeable, this time. This would mean that Elladan was nearby, for they could not project such clear thoughts and words from a distance.

Then, a voice sounded.

"Were I not so glad to see you, I would knock you across the head for your foolishness! What on earth were you thinking?"

And right before him stood his brother, Elladan, the one he had shared a womb with, the one he had known since the moment of his conception.

"I could not leave him."

In spite of this Elladan still ran forward and hugged his brother madly. He was so afraid he would had been too late.

"You know I had to go to Legolas."

"Of course you would have to."

Elrohir felt the coldness from his twin.

"Why do you look at me like that?"

"I almost feel that you have been lying to me."

"Do you really think so, Dan?"

"I do not know anymore, Elrohir. I do not know what to think nor what to do. Why has it come to this?"

In spite of his own stabbing pain, Elrohir laid a hand on his twin's shoulder.

"I wish I had an answer, Dan. But imagine what he must be going through, alone and swamped in such strong magic, a mere child. My feelings for him aside, how could we not have gone to his aid?"

"I only hope we have, Roh."

For below their perch they looked down on the flank of the mountain where the stampeding trolls carried on flooding past, while overhead the screeches of the dragons pierced the sky.

"There are so many of them. I thought they were almost extinct," Elladan said, regaining some of his composure.

"Not quite, I would think," Elrohir said. "They must be answering the call of the gem."

"What other creatures will heed its call?"

"One of 'em questions has been answered, it would appear!"

Feeling the cold metal at their necks, the twins froze.

"Now there, be careful, mind you. Don't mind us if our steel don't suddenly slip," said a second, gnarled voice dripping in hatred.

How could they have been surprised? And by whom?

"Yes, that's it my pretties. Stand up – slowly, mind – and ease away now. Remember our friends the steelies. Any of you tries it and the other cops it!"

Harsh, rough hands twisted the twins' arms behind their backs and gags were shoved into their mouths. Then, they were whirled around to face their captors.

Neither could quite hide their surprise. For standing before them were five Orc-like creatures, their black teeth and twisted faces made what they were clear enough. But they were much taller than any Orc either had known, almost the same height as the twins, and incongruously shaped too. For instead of the beat-like forms these creatures held themselves upright in what was an almost regal posture.

"Oh look, twins!" one of them hissed, cruel lips upturned.

"Half-bloods," another spat, fixing them with a look of pure hatred. "See how filthy their Man and Elf-blood runs."

_What are they?_ Elladan asked, his thoughts probing his brother's.

Instant suspicion came into the face of the second one who spoke.

"Any more magic tricks and I shall kill one of you!" he snarled, landing a backhand on Elrohir's temple.

The twins sought to hide their surprise. How had a creature like an Orc felt their use of the channel between them? They were usually too stupid to even understand the concept of magic, much less feel its usage.

"What do we do with them?" another whined.

"Eat their tasty little toes."

"Stop it, all of you!"

It was obvious that one of the brutes commandeered some fear in the rest. Was he their leader? With these creatures it was never clear, for any moment could the leader be knocked down and his eyes plucked out by a challenger.

"We take them back with us."

"What about their pretty weapons? They do not need those!"

"Leave them unspoiled and unmolested! Or would you wish to report any remiss back to the Master?"

A ripple of greater fear ran through the little group, and any discontent was brought down to mere simmering again.

"Right, if our guests could be so kind as to follow us there, we would much be obliged we would," said the leader with a mock-bow.

Elladan and Elrohir could do nothing but to be marched along, hapless.

It was only a while later did they realise something that made their blood turn to ice: they had understood every word their captors were saying. While it was ugly, the inflections guttural and mangled, what those beasts spoke was unmistakeably the high tongue of Sindarin.


	12. XII

XII

Still stunned by the realisation, the twins were trussed up the rocky terrain, stumbling along with the rough shoves and endless attempts by the Orc-like beasts to trip them over.

Yet they did not react to any baiting or goading, not even Elrohir, whose hatred of the goblins had almost driven him to madness many years past. For Elrond's sons would not stoop as low as such degraded beasts.

"We're home, boys!" the leader cackled as they were pushed into a hole in a wall of rock.

Their legs kicked out from under them, the twins were forced to the ground and held there by their captors.

"Look at this one's sword! It's as big as they get it is!" one of the creatures cried.

"And look here at his clothes! How fancy he must think he is! And then to have them clothes all ruined by travel. What a shame! He must be real unused to it, the soft bugger!"

And abruptly the laughter and mockery ceased as if someone had thrown a wet towel over it.

"Now then, gentlemen. What have you brought to us?"

The voice was so different to the spitting, twisted tongues all around that it sounded even cleaner and more beautiful to the twins' ears. What was such a refined tone doing here?

"We found them wondering about, spying, sneaking up to no good we did," the leader said, the fear and respect in his voice clear enough.

"How interesting. But I was under the impression that I said you were to take none alive," the refined voice was ever so polite still, yet something sent a titter of fear through the gathered creatures.

"But, I thought you may have wanted for them to be taken back, after all they seem to be similar to you –" the leader's voice choked off in sudden fear.

"Well, well. I suppose we shall have to see, shall we not? Help our guests to their feet, gentlemen, if you would be so kind."

And the twins were hauled roughly to their feet, their minds confused and spinning with all they were hearing. Elrohir in particular was almost bursting with confusion. There was something about the voice, a certain lilt, that he simply could not bear hearing without an ache.

They could not contain their gasps as their eyes raised to meet with a familiar figure smiling down at them.

"No!" Elladan gasped in confusion.

While Elrohir did not speak.

"Welcome, sons of Elrond, to our humble abode."

Calm, almost serene features studied the twins, who had both turned pallid.

"I trust you were not inconvenienced too much on your journey?"

"Explain this!" Elladan stammered, while Elrohir continued to stare with bulging eyes.

"Now, there is hardly any need to get your good selves into this state, is there?" one of the creatures sneered. "Be more respectful."

"Lithroleah, what is going on?" Elladan finally found his tongue.

"Leave us," the dark Elf commandeered, and the ugly beasts melted away, grinning malevolently.

Left alone, he looked from twin to twin, still perfectly composed, as if their meeting under the circumstances was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Can I offer you a chance to freshen up?"

"Manwë's arse, Lithroleah, stop your posturing and tell us what is going on!"

If Lithroleah were offended, he did betray it.

"Please, Master Elladan, there is nothing to fear. Those were my men."

"They are Orcs!" Elladan exploded, more outraged than ever.

"One might have expected better than such ignorance and blind prejudice from Elrond's sons," Lithroleah carried on, quite unmoved. "And your brother seems rather above such differences, does he not?"

And for the first time Elladan saw how frail Elrohir looked, for he was suppressing a broad tremble in his body.

He took a deep breath.

"Please, Lithroleah, perhaps you could give me a moment with my brother? The journey has been difficult for him."

"If you wish. None will disturb you," Lithroleah said, and he floated out of the room without a glance behind.

_Roh?_

Elladan did not dare to speak, for fear of being overheard.

_Roh, please, what is the matter?_

_Think you Lass is still out here, Dan?_

Elladan wrapped his brother in his arms, any earlier resentment and annoyance forgotten. He pressed their heads together, and felt too at a loss. But they were expected to be grown up! How could they do so, when they felt such little ones deep down?

_Stay strong, Rohnen, we shall get to him. You must be strong, both for me and for him. Can you do that?_

Elrohir gave the smallest of nods.

_Yes._

_We will let none stand in our way, and who dares turn Elrond's twins down? This is _our_ story._

And these words which they had always uttered to each other in periods of tribulation never stood so strongly. From deep within, Elrohir pulled out his strength and slowly he worked himself away from his brother.

"I never forget what those creatures are," Elrohir said, suddenly filled with icy fire.

"Lithroleah!" he cried.

It was not long before the sanguine Elf re-entered the room.

"Ai, I see you have rather recovered, Master Elrohir."

"Do you know what you are doing, Lithroleah?" Elrohir held his gaze.

"One must not jump to conclusions –"

"We are listening," Elrohir interrupted, some of his old impatience returning.

"They are such allies that old fools such as Thranduil and Elrond will never realise, stuck in their dogmatic ways!" Lithroleah said, excitement creeping into his demeanour for the first time. "There is a way to control them, yet the babbling dotards refuse to consider it!"

"It is of your king and our father that you speak of," Elrohir said, yet his voice was still completely even.

Unnerved all of a sudden, Lithroleah gave a slight cough and tried to carry on his explanation.

"I mean no disrespect, but these creatures would form an almost invincible army!"

"What are they?" Elladan said, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

"Can you not tell? For they embody the very best qualities of Arda's races! From the Orcs they take the immunity to pain, and from our own noble lineage, the ease of movement and prowess on the battlefield."

Silence of the deepest shock met his pronouncement, as the twins digested his revelation.

"They are half-Elven?" Elrohir eventually asked.

Lithroleah beamed with delight.

"Do you not think it a most wonderful thing?"

"What vile –"

Elrohir was cut short by his brother placing a hand on his arm.

"Do you not realise what this means?" Lithroleah said, quite beside himself with excitement. "With them working for us, we will be able to march across Arda with impunity! Angmar, Mordor, we fear their pathetic powers not!"

He let out a loose laugh that sent shivers down the twins' spines.

"How came you across such a depraved idea? Surely 'twas not you who – crossed – them?" Elladan said, unsure of whether to be angry or disgusted first.

"Ai, I must admit they were the work of another. But surely you both more than others will appreciate the day when half-bloods could be free from feeling like filth?"

"What are you talking about? You are a first-born –"

"Perhaps you are luckier than most. Perhaps you do not realise the fates of other Halflings who are not as lucky as you to rule a kingdom! Your father is rather the exception, I think, a freak occurrence, rather than –"

"Watch your mouth, whelp," Elladan said softly.

Lithroleah was not perturbed.

"Ah, yes. But do you know what happened to those _other_ half-bloods – oh yes, do not look so startled. Did you suppose yourselves to be so unique? For many an Eldar had their names written off the memories of their families for losing their hearts to mere mortals! They were simply – written out of existence! And what of their children, little freaks that they turned out to be? They were cast out from our noble societies, left to the wolves, or worse still, to the mockery of humans, for being in possession of pointy ears, the ability to live long past the lives of mortals a curse upon them. You see, greed and jealousy of their noble features led to many mutilations – and those were lucky. Others were simply beaten to death! Or perhaps _they_ were the lucky ones!

"And our esteemed rulers continue to cast these children out, covering this up, for they threatened the purity of our race! Imagine your children torn from you and made to suffer, because you lost your heart to someone unsuitable!"

Elrohir made a sudden movement.

"No, 'tis not true," he murmured, lost in his own swirling emotions, stung by Lithroleah's accusations.

"Ai, you are mistaken, Master Elrohir. Did you think Mirkwood would ever accept your family, half-blood that you are? Why it would turn your blood cold to hear some of the things said about your undesirable influence over His Highness!"

"You lie!" Elladan said, knowing they were now treading in dangerous waters.

Yet he knew too that Lithroleah spoke an element of truth. Why else had Elrond advised his sons to play down their friendship with Legolas? It would not be past wagging tongues to misconstrue it as something more sinister, especially with Legolas's age –

"Have I lifted the scales from your eyes, peredhil? Even your names carry the reminder of your mixed blood!"

"We carry them with pride. Pride in our noble ancestor, Eärendil, who looks down upon us even now," Elrohir stirred from his thoughts. "Do not mix our names with those creatures you have out there! For you may call them half-Elven, and it may even be so, but rest assured that if left alone with your Lady Caeriel they would violate her in ways unimaginable!"

Astute Elrohir still was in spite of all the turmoil that raged within him. The reaction it provoked within Lithroleah was great indeed, as the dark Elf's face turned a deathly pale.

"Liar!" he spat into Elrohir's face. "You filthy, disgusting –"

He was cut short by the entrance of one of his half-Orcs.

"The master wants them brought to him," he said, smiling nastily at the twins. "Without further delay."

Abruptly Lithroleah wiped away his rage.

"Come on then. Your presence is greatly anticipated."

And the twins were bundled out without a further word.

xxxxx

**A/N:** So that's the latest update from me. I'll not get the chance to be online much for a bit, but thanks for your interest and do let me know how you're finding this.

myshka - thanks for your support. I hope you continue to like it, as I seem to have little control over the direction this one is heading towards!


	13. XIII

XIII

Once again, the twins were marched into the dimness that served as light in these accursed parts.

_Think you he believes all he babbled about?_ Elladan asked Elrohir.

"Oi! I said no devilry!" cried an Orc-being.

Lithroleah turned placidly to them.

"See that? They can sense magic being used. Another useful skill to have, think you not? They call themselves the Uruk-Vaan. It suits them."

Neither twin replied.

"Go on then, use whatever magic you wish. 'Twill be no use before him."

_They do not know the nature of our communication._ Elrohir said, trying to send through to Elladan a confidence he did not feel.

_Nay. But still, he appears certain that this master of theirs is in possession of such powers he need fear nothing._

The unease Elrohir had felt only grew with the thought. But he could not give voice to it, no, the thought was too slippery, and he was so, so tired.

_Roh! Stay alert!_ Elladan snapped, as he felt his brother's concentration momentarily lapse.

"Calf's bones, what a racket!" hissed one of the Uruk-Vaans as reaching a rise they found themselves overlooking a terrible, magnificent sight of a valley choked full with squabbling, fretful trolls. The dim of bellowing and roars from brawls hit them as they stood surveying the teeming mass of cantankerous beings.

"What we should do with this lot here is quite beyond me," muttered one of the Uruks.

"Do not question the master!" another hissed in fear. "He knows!"

A momentous screech filled the air as a huge beast breathing flames swooped low, almost dipping the party with its wing, before diving at one of the trolls, which raised its strong arms and lashed out.

What became of that skirmish none of them ever found out, for with a strong kick, Elrohir broke free of his captor's grasp, and slammed his bound arms into Elladan's captor, causing him to kneel over in pain and confusion.

"This way!" he shouted, and Elladan followed him as he ran in great leaps and bounds, straight into the chaotic swam of flailing troll limbs.

Once caught amongst the stinking, shoving, ill-tempered mass of bodies, it was all the twins could do not to be crushed.

Yet, their presence was not yet detected.

_Stay together, Roh_, Elladan warned.

_Think you I am not trying?_ His brother snapped back peevishly.

Then, an idea hit Elrohir.

_Climb onto the back of one of their legs! If we each take one, we would not be parted! They are so thick they will probably attribute us to extra muscles and increased strength!_

Elladan almost laughed out loud. Only Elrohir could think up such a mad but brilliant idea!

_What if it decides to sit down?_ He was teasing now.

_Pick another one then! You do have enough choice here!_

Yet even as they began to hunt about for their target, an almost imperceptible ripple floated through the air.

Everything froze, expectant. But as quickly as the silence descended, the din broke out again. Yet the twins could feel the fear that lingered on around them.

_Where do you hide?_

Stunned, the twins exchanged glances whilst still clinging on for dear life. There was a power in that voice which none of them but themselves could hear.

_Why do you hide from me?_

Elladan tried to speak to his brother, but found that Elrohir had slammed their connection shut. A look over showed him that his brother was shaking his head madly.

And Elrohir leapt onto Elladan and pried him off the troll.

"This is some new devilry," he muttered into his brother's ear. "We must go as soon as we can."

Agreeing with him, Elladan felt for the first time the full strength of their pursuer. And it left him almost breathless to know how such power was behind their foe, how much weaker they themselves were against its might.

"Where to, Roh?" he shouted as they began to fight their way through the marauding trolls again. "Think you we can outrun this?"

He saw the determination in his brother's very movement, and the tragedy that settled at the bottom of his stomach was greater than ever. While he did not for a moment doubt Elrohir's grit, they had met their match this time.

Elrohir, on the other hand, was completely unaware of the defeat starting to grow in his brother. In his mind all that mattered was to fight, the only way he could save Legolas was to bring down all their enemies and only then could see his smile again –

He grasped his brother's hand and pulled, suddenly filled with a compulsion. They had to go deeper, but to where – and what – he knew not.

It was a miracle, their not being spotted by the disgusting creatures. But trolls had small eyes and even tinier brains, which could not for a moment process more than one piece of information at a time. And what they were focussed on now was a prize. A prize of value so great they would die to lay their hands on it. Yes, death would be worth it, so wonderful it were.

_This way, Dan!_ Elrohir almost screamed out loud.

And Elladan felt his brother grip him until his arm rang with pain. But it was only pain. They should, no, they _had_ to –

And the blanket came down upon them all, suffocating them, rendering them immobile. It was bliss, then fear, then something most horrific.

All stood there, unable to bulge a muscle.

There was then a shift in the air, and skins as thick as the trolls' tingled. Charged, expectant, the trolls parted like a wave, and through the channel strode a measured lord, Master of all Arda.

Unable to move their gazes away, the twins did not react, even as one of the trolls suddenly rushed up to them, and then stopped.

Was it not strange, that the dark one was so dazzling in his presence? Was it not strange, that he was so fair?

"Why do you run, Lords that you are?"

His voice carried with it a thousand crystals humming in the breeze. And it hit Elrohir as hard as a sledgehammer.

"I hope you were not treated too poorly?"

"No," Elladan managed to stammer to the one now before them. He knew his brother would not be able to speak.

"Then may I once again extend my invitation for you to join me in my humble abode? Although you are of course at liberty to decline."

Still in a dream, Elrohir took a step in his direction, followed closely by his anxious brother.

And a gracious laugh stemmed from their host.

"Come then. Much awaits us."

x

Elladan took a step closer to his brother as they neared the structure. Shooting so high that it was almost impossible, the tower was an amalgamation of all the palaces in which the individual gems had slumbered.

Ice in one part, steam and flame in another, then a stone turret incongruously jutting out of a torrential flow of water, it was at once the most wondrous and grotesque structure he had ever laid eyes on.

Although of course it was not the thing at the forefront of either of their minds. And Elrohir for his part did not seem to even realise what he was standing before, nailed as his eyes were to the thin figure leading them on confidently. Was he so bitterly hoping and wishing for it that his eyes deceived him completely?

Why did not Elladan show any recognition or say anything then?

He saw none of the mixed interior, with tapestries and airy passages and earthy tunnels and metallic corridors that they were led through. He saw none of the graceful Uruks that were such an aberrations of the Valar's good work, nor the beetle-like creatures that lurked in the shadows, watching, waiting.

Only when left alone with Elladan did the spell break and Elrohir suddenly notice that his brother was staring at him in concern.

"You cannot let the magic bewitch you, Roh," Elladan was saying in a low voice.

"But could you not see, Dan? It was _him_!'

Conflict played across Elladan's face.

"Roh, I see his image too, but our enemies are powerful. You do not know –"

"Surely I would know Lass when I saw him!"

Elladan bit his tongue. He had been as stunned as Elrohir to see Legolas approaching them, but something had prevented him from acknowledging the being as their friend. Elladan remembered the exhaustion in Legolas's face when they parted, remembered how strained he had looked – as if he were only just clinging on, as if it tore him up so utterly to leave them.

And this dark creature in Legolas's image was so calm, so emotionless in his power. It was true that Legolas was particularly good at hiding his feelings from the world, but this composure was too unnatural. For one, Legolas had never managed to keep the joy from his eyes whenever Elrohir was around, but this creature had shown not a trace of it.

"He is stronger, Dan! I have not seen him looking so good since before this whole wretched thing began!" Elrohir was almost bursting with excitement.

This too, worried Elladan. Why had his brother not shouted for joy and enveloped Legolas in a hug back then?

"We must be careful, Roh!"

"Nay, Dan, stop being such an old woman! It _is_ him, and he is but biding his time, waiting for the right moment to break free with us!"

"I fear it is more complicated than that, Roh."

"Stop it, you wet cloth! We have found him, and he is so strong now!"

"'Tis not him, Roh! You are too caught up in your desire to see him well that you have misjudged the situation –"

"I will prove it to you! It is him!"

And storming out of the room before Elladan could protest, Elrohir ran down the hallway straight into the face of one of the sneering guards.

"Leaving already, my lords?"

"Where is he? Take me to see him!" Elrohir cried.

Before the Uruk could reply, the wall melted away to reveal a set of stairs.

_Please enter, dear lords._

Elrohir charged up the stairs, driven wild by his desire to show both himself and his brother that he was right.

They found themselves in a room of black granite so shiny one could almost mistake it for mirrors. Which only made the fair being before them stand out even more.

"You wished to see me?"

"Lass!" Elrohir cried, dashing forward, wanting to grab his hands.

Instinctively the being recoiled, although he displayed no emotions beyond his polite mask.

"I am sorry," he said, still smiling pleasantly at the twins. "What did you wish to see me about? I hope you are comfortable?"

Elrohir's feet turned cold as suddenly he realised that the eyes staring back at him were a deep violet, and completely devoid of the gentleness he always saw in Legolas.

He stumbled back, head spinning.

Elladan beside him pressed a palm discreetly against the small of his back and stepped forward.

"We wished to enquire to what we owed this honour of your hospitality. You seem after all to have much to do without worrying about us," Elladan said, his own thoughts buried deep down. "We do not even know your name."

Still the smile remained. It was so like Legolas and yet a million miles apart that Elladan could barely suppress a shudder of his own at the devilry at work here.

"My men call me the Prince of Darkness, and I rather do think that too dramatic, do you not? Does it not please you to be surrounded by such a sumptuous palace such as this? I rather thought you would enjoy it. Mayhap it would remind you of home?"

_Come Roh, let us go. He does not intend to give away any more than that._

"I do agree with that, my Lord," Elladan said. "It is most striking, especially when you live in so desolate a place as this. We do appreciate your hospitality."

"Desolate?" the prince almost let out a laugh. "Perhaps, but no more will it be soon enough."

"We should not intrude on you further then," Elrohir seemed to have pulled himself together at last, much to his brother's relief.

And he extended his hand in the manner of the Westron men which the prince took without a moment's hesitation. Upon contact, a jolt passed through Elrohir and both twins gasped out loud.

For that was not a twist of the light but the immaculate, self-assured dark one now changed into a figure full of fatigue, struggling to stand. And on his pale face clung an expression of such weariness. Across his forehead was a nasty gash still oozing blood, and there were bruises and other lesser cuts, some half-hidden by his hair.

And the eyes, they were an icy-blue, fixed onto Elrohir's, pleading.

"Please," he whispered.

"Lass!" Elrohir breathed, yet unable to move.

"You must kill Nondwë," Legolas continued to force himself to speak. "He will use me to cover all the lands with a great suffering. You must do this and set us all free."

And all of a sudden their contact broke and once again it was the smooth smile showing the bewildered twins to the door.

xxxxx

**A/N:** So there you are, a little bit of the mystery is solved, but more are uncovered. Or something to that effect. I was away for most of last month both for work and for relaxation, and was particularly inspired by the earliest classical structures that I was exploring. Hopefully that will carry on a little bit into my work.

Al - Hey there, good to see you

myshka - thanks for being understanding. Things around me are picking up but I hope this will be enough to die you over. And yes, I think this is also true in the real world in societies where structure and boxes are all-important. Nobody chooses to be born the way they are, but we all have a choice in the way we choose to live our lives.

ovoriel - I suspect you got your answer here! (of sorts)


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